Remembrance
by E. Wallace
Summary: That which does not kill us makes us stronger, or so Nietzsche says. What we survive is what makes us who we are; how we live through it is the story. On the journey back from a dark place, recovery takes many paths and uses many names.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I've made a few minor edits from the version posted to ASC to correct some time line references that no one else would notice but they bugged the crap out of me.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them. The day I make money on any of this stuff, they are more than welcome to their cut. Go ahead, guys, start holding your breath now.

Remembrance  
By E. Wallace  
2001

Captain's Log - Supplemental:

_It has been four hours since our encounter with the Egelloc at Dakar 6 ended. Discovering their location was a fluke, especially in that we weren't actively looking for it. It was mere happenstance that the Enterprise was close enough to respond to a distress signal from a Legna freighter in time to prevent their abduction._

_This is the first time the Egelloc have been caught 'in residence'. Abandoned outposts have been found scattered across three sectors, always littered with the dead remnants of their 'experiments'. On the rare occasions that their victims have been found alive, the stories have been chilling._

_Starfleet Intelligence has been able to glean precious little information from those few survivors other than that the Egelloc claimed to be behaviorists, students of other species. That lofty label is belied by the amoral disregard they show for the rights and sensibilities of those unfortunate enough to become one of their subjects._

_The Egelloc homeworld prefers that almost all contact take place away from their planet, allowing few off-worlders permission to visit. They are allied with the Federation, but because they opted against full membership, they can call on the UFP in times of need yet cannot be compelled to reciprocate._

_In this case, their isolationist government has consistently disavowed itself of any knowledge or responsibility for this alleged splinter group and sees no reason to be concerned by anything that does not happen on their planet. New indications appear to contradict that stance and suspicions are mounting that these heinous crimes are being performed with the full knowledge and support of the homeworld._

_The Federation Council will have to deal with that. For now, our focus must be on Dakar 6. The despicable 'research' center that the Egelloc left behind is a maze of tiny rooms that a dozen Away Teams are still searching. Nearly 100 survivors have already been rescued, but the unimaginable torture they have suffered means a long and difficult recovery for each._

x~x

Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Counselor Deanna Troi stood in silent witness to the frenzied activity of Sickbay. Doctors and nurses busily attended to the most severely injured victims who had been transferred from the triage center set up in shuttle bay one.

He made a mental note to commend his chief medical officer for the training she had given her staff. They had leapt into action as though the CMO herself had fired off the orders. Still, he wished she were here, not on leave. Turning, he asked, "How are you doing, Counselor?" They were short handed enough without losing her, too.

"I'll be all right," Deanna sighed, rolling her shoulders a couple of times to release some of the tension.

Suddenly, the comm system beeped.

"Riker to Transporter Room! Emergency beam up! Two directly to Sickbay!" The words still hung in the air as the familiar transporter shimmer appeared in front of them. It faded to reveal Will Riker, gently cradling a blanket wrapped figure.

"I need a doctor here - now!"

Despite the urgency of his tone, he laid his unmoving burden on the biobed with unusual care then stepped back, out of the way of the swarming medical team.

The fact that he had overridden the medical protocols and beamed directly to Sickbay was evidence enough of the seriousness of what he had found, but there was more to it.

Picard didn't need Deanna to identify the almost palpable rage emanating from his first officer. "What is it, Number One?"

Shoulders rigid, fists clenched at his sides, Riker's eyes never left the bed. "It just got... **personal**."

A gasp from the attending nurse drew their attention before he could continue. To Picard and Deanna's horror, Dr. Selar had peeled away the blanket to reveal the badly bruised face of Beverly Crusher.

x~x

Earlier...

Worf cautiously opened the door of the cell. His Klingon blood boiled at the thought of the atrocities performed here.

_'The Egelloc are completely without honor. How could any race use another for such sadistic 'experiments'?' _

The cowards had fled once they knew the battle was lost. Rescuing the survivors had rightly taken precedence over tracking down their abusers, but Worf longed to give them a taste of their own work.

The last few cells had been empty, yet his skin prickled with unease as he opened the next door. Most of the pitiful creatures he had found simply cowered as far from the door as possible, having learned to fear their captors' attentions. Some spirits, however, had not yet been broken. Several times he had had to fend off flying fists and feet from prisoners still unwilling to give in.

Worf slowly scanned the room with his palm beacon. He thought this cell, too, was empty, but a slight movement caught his eye. "I will not harm you," he said as he stepped nearer.

In the corner, a filthy, tattered blanket moved and a pair of frightened blue eyes widened. "Worf?" the voice, barely recognizable, rasped like sandpaper.

Recognition, horror and rage swept through him as he reached out to her. "Dr. Crusher?"

"Don't touch me!" she moaned, turning away.

Worf hurried back into the corridor. Spotting the group at the far end, he called urgently, "Commander Riker! Come quickly!"

Responding to the summons, Will Riker shuddered to think, after all they had seen, what could have put that note of revulsion in the Security chief's voice.

Worf looked as if he were about to be sick. "It's Dr. Crusher!"

Riker stared in disbelief, knowing he had to have heard wrong. His light found the cell's occupant, and his stomach tightened. "Dear God! Beverly!" He moved towards her, but she scrambled weakly backwards, further into the corner. Her voice was faint, but he and Worf heard the words clearly.

"Please, Will, just let me die!"

x~x

In the conference room, the counselor tried to reassure the shaken men. "You must have been mistaken."

"Mistaken? Deanna, she called us by name, begged us to let her die! She literally passed out from fear when we got close to her." Will pounded his fist on the table as he choked back a moan. "What the hell did they do to her?"

No one had an answer to his heart wrenching question, and having heard the rumors about the Egelloc's vile practices, no one wanted to be able to answer him.

Rubbing Will's arm in a small, unconscious attempt to comfort him - and herself - Deanna turned her attention to the head of the table. Picard's stoic face revealed none of the emotions swirling within him.

They were the same emotions she felt intensifying as word spread through the Enterprise that one of their own had been discovered in that hell hole. Straining her skills almost to the limit, she tried to shut them out, turning again when another voice spoke.

"How did she get there?" Worf demanded gruffly from his position by the door to the bridge.

"An excellent question, lieutenant," the captain said, speaking for the first time since leaving Sickbay. The question gave him something to focus on, something other than the vision in his mind - Beverly.

Beverly, abused, tortured, lying unconscious in her own Sickbay.

They were still waiting for a detailed report on her injuries - and a prognosis.

With an effort, Picard turned his attention to the question of 'how'. "She was supposed to be spending her shore leave on Kiris, but her first stop was Starbase 214. Start there, and let's see if we can track her movements."

Worf grunted, pushing down his instinctive desire to hunt down the Egelloc, but any action was better than none at all. He stalked out to the bridge without a word.

x~x

The final count as the Enterprise warped away from Dakar 6 was 173 survivors, 59 dead. Before they reached the nearest medical starbase, a mere 48 hours away, both of those numbers had been adjusted by three. They lost two men and a woman who simply gave up, each seemingly unable to bear the prospect of a long, agonizing recovery but at peace in the knowledge that they would not die in captivity.

The ship and its crew had handled larger numbers of casualties, but this was unlike anything in their experience. The broken and battered bodies could be repaired with bone knitters and dermal regenerators. The shattered minds and souls would receive no such quick fixes.

All personnel with psychiatric training were kept busy nearly around the clock. The snippets of stories that were already surfacing were barbaric in their detailing of the physical and psychological abuse inflicted, and the variety of techniques was appalling.

Beverly's story, however, remained a mystery. She spent the better part of two days under sedation because consciousness had brought only hysteria.

x~x

Picard had made a brief stop on the bridge to start his shift before turning command over to his second officer.

Entering Sickbay, relief threatened to overload his mechanical heart when he saw that Beverly was conscious, sitting on the edge of the biobed and though she appeared tense, she wasn't hysterical.

Starkly framed by auburn hair, her face was pale, the high cheekbones even more pronounced. The blue, standard issue hospital gown hung loosely - another emphasis on the weight she had lost. She looked fragile, as though the slightest touch would shatter her. The haunted look in her eyes made him want to take her in his arms and protect her from whatever horrors had been committed against her.

He had read the injury report until every word was burned into his memory. Superficial cuts and scrapes covered much of her body. Deep bruising marked where ribs had been cracked. Delicate surgery had been required to repair her fractured right wrist. There had also been evidence of sexual abuse. The extent of any mental and emotional damage was still unknown.

It was an effort for Picard to turn his attention to Deanna when she stepped away from the circle of medical staff attending the doctor.

"How is she, Counselor?"

Deanna should have been happy to report that Beverly was awake, but even that good news was tempered by a revelation so new that there hadn't been time to report it. With a sigh, she said, "Her physical injuries have been healed as you know, but - " She glanced over her shoulder then motioned the captain into Beverly's office. "Upon waking a short while ago, she did not display the anticipated agitation but rather an almost paralyzing confusion, which we ultimately discovered was caused by..." Deanna hesitated, but there was just no easy way to say it. "Captain, Beverly has no recollection of what happened to her. In fact, she has no memory at all."

"Amnesia?" Picard asked hollowly. Even as the counselor nodded, his mind continued to fight the reality of the unexpected announcement and its overwhelming implications. "Can you help her?"

Deanna nodded. "I believe so, but it will take time. However, bringing back the positive memories will also mean bringing back the traumatic ones."

"Memories traumatic enough to cause amnesia?" His stomach tightened at her nod. "Do you have any idea yet what sort of memories those might be?"

"It's all speculation at this point. There was obvious physical torture, but most of those injuries had already begun to heal. It's more likely that the amnesia is a result of the psychological experimentation we now know the Egelloc are so fond of." Bitterness was clear in her tone and she struggled for the professional detachment she desperately needed to maintain control. "Right now, Beverly is very bewildered and frightened... and vulnerable. It might help if you talked to her, Captain. You've known her longer than anyone; hopefully she will feel safe with you, even if she doesn't understand why."

Picard was at a loss. He had no idea how to comfort Beverly, to help her. Memories of his own captivity in the hands of a Cardassian sadist made him shudder to think what might have happened to her. He had at least been able to return to people he recognized, knew, trusted. Beverly had awakened from a nightmare into a world of strangers.

He wished that he could spare her the pain of having to reopen the mental and emotional wounds inflicted upon her, but Beverly was his friend, the woman he secretly loved. He had to find a way to help her.

Steeling himself, Picard walked back into Sickbay as the doctors and nurses found other things to do to give them some privacy.

The patient sighed inwardly as the group of people that had surrounded her moved away. It had taken every bit of self-control to remain calm when she had woken up. She had learned the last few times that if she got upset, they would press that silver hissing thing to her neck or arm, and she would know nothing until she woke again hours later. Instinct told her that if she was going to get away, she had to be awake and alert.

_'getawaygetawaygetawaygetaway'_

The words chased each other in her head. She didn't know where she was, but somehow it frightened her, and she knew she could not stay here. Where she would go was something she could worry about later.

A man was moving toward her, and she eyed him warily. She had seen him come in and was relieved when the dark-eyed woman went to talk to him. The woman's soft, melodic voice left her more on edge than the questions she asked... questions to which she had no answers.

Stopping in front of her, he smiled reassuringly. "Hello, it's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"All right, I guess." Her voice was low with a slight rasp to it, and she shied away when he leaned a bit closer to hear her.

Seeing her reaction, he took a quarter step backward. "Beverly, I know you don't remember me just now. My name is Jean-Luc." He paused, hoping for some sign of recognition, but she wouldn't even look at him. "I want you to understand that you are safe here. We are all your friends. We will not allow further harm to come to you. You are safe now, Beverly."

"Don't call me that," she murmured. Others had called her that, and it was more unnerving than not knowing where she was.

He frowned then quickly relaxed his features so as not to frighten her more. "Beverly - "

"Don't call me that!" She slid off the biobed, backing away from him as he reached out to her. The voice that had been little more than a whisper grew in volume and intensity. "Don't **ever** call me that! I'm not Beverly! I don't know who she is. I don't want to know. I'm not Beverly! I don't want to be Beverly!" She turned and ran, her only thought - her only **need** - to escape, to be away from him, this place, everything.

She ran blindly for the door, and as it slid open, she plowed into Will Riker. He caught her, holding on instinctively as she scratched and clawed in an attempt to break free, her screams filling the air. Dr. Selar rushed up with a sedative, and once again, Riker laid the unconscious woman on the nearest biobed.

This was not a habit he wanted to continue.

-tbc-


	2. Chapter 2

The same questions, the same answers.

Over and over again until her head throbbed.

She had thought things would get better once they allowed her to leave the place they called Sickbay, but they took her to a tiny, cramped space that moved - the turbolift? - and showed her a set of rooms they said were supposed to be hers...

...But none of it was hers, everything was _Beverly's_.

The living area was filled with small, personal items that meant nothing to her - like the pictures they said were of her with more people she didn't know. She didn't recognize anything, told them so again and again, but they wouldn't give up, urging her to take her time and look once more.

It was the same when they entered the bedroom. The room was well kept, with only small things out of place in evidence of a hasty, wait-until-the-last-minute departure - a drawer not quite closed, a bracelet lying on the table with a string of beads trailing out of the jewelry box nearby.

She began to feel the walls closing in on her, the scent from the flowering plant in the corner turning her stomach. Her face drained of what little color she had, her breathing grew shallow, and her heart began to race. It wasn't as bad as Sickbay, but it wasn't pleasant either.

One of them moved toward her with the hissing thing.

_'No!'_ she cried silently. She couldn't bear to be put to sleep now. Raising a hand to ward them off, she struggled to keep her voice even. "Don't! Please, I'll be okay, just let me out of here. I don't like it here."

They acquiesced reluctantly.

There were two more trips to the cabin as they called it - both with the same results - before they took her to similar rooms devoid of everything but furniture. She waited for the panic to set in and when it didn't, she smiled for the first time since finding herself... wherever it was she had found herself.

They showed her how to order food from the wall, and then finally left her alone.

The first item on her agenda was to rearrange the furniture. Anything she could move, she did, just so it wouldn't be the way _they_ had put it.

It felt rebellious. It felt bold. It felt...

...good.

It wasn't much, but for the time being, it was her space, and she was going to make damn sure they knew it. Here in her own quarters, the urgent need to get away had faded, replaced by a determination to stand and fight whatever came her way. If she had thought about it - which she did not do - she would have realized that where she was no longer bothered her.

The people here... that was an altogether different matter.

Her stomach growled, turning her mind from defiant decorating to food. Slowly sifting through the vast food menu file, she thought she might well starve to death before she found something that sounded appealing.

Finally choosing a vegetable soup, she took the large mug and curled up in the overstuffed chair she had placed in front of the window. Her mind raced as fast as the stars flying past as she tried to figure out what to do next.

She started at the sound of a chime, surprised that she had dozed off. The chime rang again and a moment later the door opened.

Setting the empty soup mug aside, she faced her guest with a regal air. "Just because you _can_ come in doesn't mean you _should_," she said coolly.

"You're quite right, and I apologize. Next time, I'll wait until you say "come"."

She cocked her head in puzzled inquiry.

"When the door chime sounds," came the explanation, "that's how you let someone in."

She nodded once. At least this one, the blonde called Judith, didn't make her fidgety the way the one they called Deanna did...

...but she still asked the same questions.

x~x

Deanna used the brief moments of solitude in the turbolift to center herself. The past three days had been particularly grueling and discouraging. Now she was going to have to find the words to describe events that made her almost physically sick.

Exiting the turbolift, her steps slowed as she neared the conference room door. The two men waiting for her would certainly take her news badly - a feeling she knew all too well. Taking a deep breath, she erected the mental barriers that would deflect some of what was about to happen.

Picard and Riker sat in their usual seats, head of the table and immediate left respectively. Deanna hesitated in the doorway. Her regular place was next to Riker, but common sense dictated that she should take the chair to the Captain's right.

Beverly's place.

Trying not to shudder, she sat down next to Picard.

"How is Dr. Crusher, Counselor?" Picard said without preamble.

"Perhaps I should begin with some generalizations about amnesia cases." Picard silently agreed, but she could see he was anxious for specifics. "Amnesia, as you know, is the result of severe physical or emotional trauma. The mind blocks out what it can't handle. That always includes the trauma itself. Many times it also includes the patient's sense of identity. In those cases, most patients retain basic acquired knowledge such as walking and talking."

Riker knew the dark-haired woman well, and he didn't like what he saw in her eyes. She was worried - and afraid. His own concern grew as he spoke. "And you're about to tell us Beverly's case is different. How?"

"Beverly understands the four other languages she learned among other things. However, she has 'forgotten' all of her knowledge of technology. She had to be shown how to use the turbolift and the food slot in her quarters. More importantly, she has blocked out her medical knowledge. She doesn't understand the read-outs over a biobed, she can't operate a tricorder, and a simple hypospray terrifies her. Our theory is that the Egelloc incorporated her medical skills into their 'experiments'." A chill raced up Deanna's spine at her own words.

"How so?"

At Picard's question, her gaze dropped to the onyx tabletop that reflected both men's faces. "From what we've learned from some of the other survivors, apparently the Egelloc are able to access memories, select what they consider to be useful and then -" Deanna stumbled over the words, "I guess 'distort' them is the simplest description."

"Distort them? Like the Ulians?" Picard asked the question even as he was considering the implications.

"Jev was a beginner in that respect. He did it once and moved on. The Egelloc concentrated on repetition... and viciousness. They also tailored their efforts to the specific subject, building on what they learned each time. The majority of Beverly's most intense memories would involve medicine. Take one of her treating a patient and turn it into... into torturing a patient."

The men exchanged looks of horror, quickly looking away as they began to understand the gruesome possibilities. Their own brief imaginings were ugly - and they knew the reality would be infinitely worse.

Avoiding eye contact with both of them, Deanna went on, desperate to finish. "Add to that her feelings about treating not only the crew, but close friends, like one of us. We've all seen what pain and suffering do to her. The Egelloc made it seem to her that she had inflicted that pain and suffering."

"I don't understand why she recognized me and Worf and then developed amnesia." That fact had been nagging at Will from the moment he learned of Beverly's condition, making him wonder if his actions had made things worse.

"It wasn't your fault, Will," Deanna said, knowing full well how his mind worked. "It was the unfortunate combination of events. Being confronted with her implied victims as her rescuers was only the final straw."

Will continued to belabor the point, wanting someone accessible to blame, even if it was himself. "But you're still saying that if we hadn't been the ones to discover the outpost, she wouldn't have developed amnesia."

"I'm not saying that, but I will tell you that if she hadn't been found when she was, there is a much greater possibility that there wouldn't have been any part of Beverly left to rescue. The torture would have continued until they destroyed her mind. As it was, the Egelloc created 'evidence' so contrary to her nature that Beverly was emotionally unable to deal with it so she pulled away. From herself, from us, from the very knowledge that might make her capable of such... things. In fact, the need to separate herself from that knowledge has made it impossible for her to even stay in Sickbay."

"I don't understand," Riker said. "Why can't she stay in Sickbay?"

"Sickbay would be the most likely stage for the new memories the Egelloc created, the site where she 'performed' whatever horrible acts they concocted. Her most viable subjects would be the people closest to her. It's probably one of the reasons she tried to run from you, sir. After that episode, she has become extremely agitated any time she has been in Sickbay or around any of the personnel. She won't even let Alyssa Ogawa near her. Her own quarters, rather surprisingly, elicited a similar though somewhat less intense response. I authorized her use of some empty quarters on deck 14."

**Picard looked at her in surprise but said nothing.**

"My presence also... upsets her." Deanna was silent for a long moment. Understanding the reasons behind Beverly's rejection had made it marginally easier to deal with. She wanted to help her friend but could do so for the time being only through an intermediary. "Judith McKenna has taken on primary responsibility of the case. She was posted to the Enterprise only two months ago. As a therapist, she spent a few days in Sickbay in order to familiarize herself with the layout and the routine. She and Beverly had some contact, but then Beverly went on leave. Beverly simply didn't know her well enough then to be frightened of her now."

"What sort of treatment will Counselor McKenna use?"

Wishing that she could answer even one of their questions with good news, Deanna tried for a semi-positive tone. "Unfortunately, we've hit some stumbling blocks there as well. There are drugs that could help, but they are all quite similar in makeup, and Beverly has shown an allergic reaction that was traced to one of the basic compounds. She has also been vehemently resistant to hypnotherapy, which we had expected..."

"...Because whether she consciously remembers it or not, it's too close to what the Egelloc did to her," Riker said, drawing the parallel for her.

"Wesley needs to be told," Picard said abruptly, but it was not a change to a more pleasant subject. They had held off contacting him until a preliminary evaluation of his mother's condition could be made.

Deanna tensed even more if that was possible. A few short months ago, in the wake of the tumultuous episode which had culminated in his resignation from the Academy, they had left the young man on Dorvan V to begin his studies as a Traveler. The fact that the planet was under Cardassian control had bothered them all a great deal, particularly Beverly. He had made a point of keeping in closer touch with his mother in order to reassure her as to his safety, but now it was he who would receive the devastating communiqué. Deanna knew he was going to want to immediately join the Enterprise, but she wasn't sure that was a good idea until they knew more about the severity of Beverly's situation.

Realizing the others were waiting for an answer, she said, "I'm going to contact him as soon as we finish here. Once I've explained the situation I know he'll want to speak with you, Captain." He nodded. "There is one more thing..." she paused.

"Great. What else could there be?" Riker's frown was as audible as it was visible.

"The small matter of having a patient with no name." Deanna rubbed the bridge of her nose, the strain finally showing through. "She refuses to be called Beverly, but won't tell us what we should call her."

Picard rose, startling the other two. He tugged at his uniform top, said, "Try calling her Rosemary," and left before Will or Deanna could ask about the significance of his suggestion.

x~x

Two hours later, Picard pushed his empty cup aside and sat back to consider the service record he had just read.

Lieutenant Judith McKenna, assistant ship's counselor.

The picture attached to the file was the complete opposite to what he had anticipated. A pair of piercing green eyes seemed to stare back, challenging him with their obvious intelligence. Shoulder length dark blonde hair framed a face that probably on more than one occasion had been condescendingly described as cute, which would account for the determined set of her jaw.

Intelligence and determination aside, she still looked incredibly young and therefore possibly too inexperienced for such a complex case.

Concerns about her qualifications had eased somewhat as he noted her exceptional rankings at the Academy and at Medical. Immediately after receiving her degree, she had been posted to a Bajoran refugee camp and received a number of commendations for her work there. That had been followed by two starship assignments of eighteen months and two years respectively. Her performance ratings had been high for both postings with notations about insightfulness, creativity and tenacity.

He had soon come to realize that if her interests had been toward command rather than counseling, she would easily be on the fast track to becoming one of the youngest captains in Starfleet history.

Yet none of it reassured him that she was capable of handling the complex task of helping Beverly work through her trauma, thereby regaining her memory. His interest in his friend's recovery could easily be categorized as less professional and far more personal than was good for any of them, but he was going to see to it that she received the best possible care.

Intent on getting a more in-depth recommendation Picard was about to contact the Tucson to talk to Lt. McKenna's last supervisor when the door chime sounded.

"Come."

Worf entered the Ready Room scowling more than he usually did.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"I have been attempting to trace Dr. Crusher's movements, sir. She did arrive as scheduled at Starbase 214 and then took another shuttle to Su'dara**.** The trail stops there."

Picard looked at his Chief of Security in silent dispute. "The trail does not stop there because she ended up on Dakar 6."

"Yes, sir, but I cannot determine how she departed Su'dara. She booked passage on a transport to Kiris, but the flight was delayed 12 hours due to a mechanical malfunction and she never boarded. She made inquiries about alternative transportation yet her name does not appear on the passenger manifest of any of the seven ships that left Su'dara between her arrival and the departure of her scheduled transport."

"So she talked her way on board some ship," Picard said slowly, working out his theory aloud, "just before it left orbit, and the captain didn't bother to correct the manifest."

"It is not like Dr. Crusher to involve herself with people who would show such disregard for standard procedures," Worf countered.

"That's true, but then such people don't usually announce their lax practices. Track down all the passenger ships that did leave Su'dara, Mr. Worf, and find out where they went."

-tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

"Rosemary."

"**Rose-**mary."

She had been trying out the name periodically ever since Judith suggested it a couple of hours ago as she was leaving after their session.

Different inflections, different voices.

"Rose-**mary**."

"Rose-**ma**-ry."

It was a name. Not good. Not bad.

Certainly better than the one they kept trying to call her.

Their surprise at her persistence in refusing to use _that_ name gave her more personal satisfaction than she had gotten from rearranging the furniture.

Finally realizing she wasn't going to budge, they began asking by which name she would prefer to be called. Each time she had managed to stall, evade or simply ignore the subject. Given the way they pounced on whatever she said, she wasn't about to put herself through an interrogation about any name she suggested on her own, not that she had any. It didn't make much difference to her what name they used...

...Except to know she didn't want _that_ one.

_'Beverly.'_

Just thinking it made her shiver. She wrapped her arms around herself and slid farther down into the chair.

"Beverly," she murmured, hoping it might be less intimidating when she said it out loud.

It wasn't.

_'This is ridiculous,'_ she scolded herself, _'being afraid of a name.'_

She knew without a doubt that she wasn't this Beverly they kept talking about, but that didn't seem to help. Shaking off the unsettling thoughts, she gave into the urge to move and got to her feet.

It didn't help either. She had paced around these two rooms more times than she could count, and in little more than a week, she had grown sick of the sight of it, sick of being surrounded by neutral shades of beige, taupe and gray. Different words, different shades of the same basic boring color.

Her clothes weren't any better. She had vetoed the gray jumpsuit on sight for the simple fact that it was ugly. No one had suggested the possibility of getting her a uniform, but she would have rejected that as well.

_'What moron decreed that women had to wear a one-piece outfit while the men got the obviously more comfortable tunic and pants?'_ It didn't really make any difference to her, but it irritated her all the same. Besides, they all looked the same in their blue or red or gold. The stark, ever-present uniform seemed to negate the variations in height and skin tone and even gender.

Both the jumpsuit and the uniform were too tightly fitted for her tastes. She couldn't bear to be confined that way.

At least they had known better than to recommend a quick flick through Beverly's closet.

She stopped in front of the mirror in the bedroom. Her auburn hair was the one thing that stood out in the entire room. The loose white top and pants she wore were only marginally less dull than the decor. She wanted color... bold jewel tones, soft pastels... reds - the right shades for her hair, of course - blues, greens, purples, golds. She wanted textures, things she could feel. She wanted...

...what she wanted was to get out of here before she went crazy.

A change of scenery, something to look at besides these gray walls... but she didn't know how to get to any place other than Sickbay and that was definitely out. They were always so intent on their own questions, they hadn't see fit to show her around the rest of the ship.

She resumed her restless pacing.

They, they, they.

The ones who kept insisting she was someone she wasn't - except that she didn't know who she was.

Her head hurt again, feeling as though little creatures were trying to pound their way out from the inside. Massaging her temples, she rested her forehead against the cold window and closed her eyes.

Why was this happening to her?

Why didn't she know who she was or where she was or recognize any of these people who claimed to know her?

The ones who said she was Beverly.

Well, she wasn't Beverly, she was...

She raised her head, looking at her hollow eyed, hollow cheeked reflection in the glass.

_'Rosemary?'_

She wondered what the name meant to them.

Well, it was just a name to her. There was no reason not to use it...

The confidence she experienced at having made the decision, small as it might be, gave her a sense of control over her life that she hadn't had before.

"What next?" she asked herself, speaking aloud just to hear a sound other than her own breathing.

Clothes could wait a bit longer. What was the point in having clothes if there was no place to go?

_'Then it's time to figure out exactly where I am.' _

Squaring her shoulders, she turned and marched out the door. Not knowing where she was going simply meant more places to explore.

They hadn't told her not to leave her quarters, but she checked the corridor to be sure it was empty before making her way to the turbolift. She knew she was starting on deck 14, which meant there were at least 13 other decks to choose from.

No, Sickbay was on deck 12, so scratch that one.

The turbolift door opened, and she instinctively backed away when she saw the two men inside - at least she thought they were men. One was tall and broad shouldered with ridges across his forehead that seemed to push his face into a perpetual scowl. The other was shorter and less fierce looking... as far as she could tell around the silver band that covered his eyes. As they stepped out of the lift, she retreated backwards until she was pressed against the opposite wall.

The second man approached her cautiously, his smile bright white against his dark skin. It was a nice smile...

"Hi, Doc."

_'Damn!'_ He had to ruin it by being one of **them**. She should have expected it, but still...

"Don't call me that! My name is Rosemary." It surprised her a bit when she said it out loud, but it reinforced the satisfaction she had felt earlier.

"Rosemary?" His puzzlement was clear. Like the rest of the crew, he was aware of Dr. Crusher's condition but the name change... After a moment, he gave a shrug and grinned. "Rosemary. I like it; it suits you. Sort of goes with your hair - you know, **Rose**-mary."

She gave him a half smile, her initial distrust easing somewhat, but she stayed against the wall. "How can you tell with that thing over your eyes?"

"This helps me see. By the way, I'm Geordi, and this is Worf. Were you headed some place?"

"Not really. I don't know where anything is so I was going to do some exploring."

The large man grunted and his scowl deepened.

Rosemary recoiled from the sound, then her eyes widened as he seemed genuinely concerned that he had frightened her.

"Take it easy," Geordi said, "he didn't mean anything. He's a Klingon and sort of naturally... grumpy."

"Klingon, hmm? Am I going to be running into a lot of these 'naturally grumpy' types?"

"No, he's the only one."

Her expression softened as she shyly extended a hand. "Then I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Worf. Apparently, I'm the only one like me on board, and Judith would probably describe me as naturally grumpy, too, right now."

He shook her hand awkwardly, not at all comfortable with this situation. She had known him just a few days ago on Dakar 6 and now it was as though she had never seen him before. It made him angry, and it took a great deal of effort not to let that anger show. "I could assign a security guard to accompany you," he offered.

"A security guard?" She scowled back at him. "You mean a nursemaid. I might as well go back to my cabin."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Worf," Geordi said, stepping in again. "Most of the off-limits places are well marked, and we'll let everybody know that Rosemary is taking a self-guided tour. They'll all be glad to help her if she gets lost." Glancing down, he saw something he hadn't noticed before. "You're not wearing shoes."

Rosemary wriggled her toes against the gray carpet and laughed. "Nope. Shoes are annoying."

He considered her statement but could find no contradiction to it. With a shrug, he proceeded to tell her which decks consisted only of crew quarters and were therefore totally uninteresting, and then he told her about Ten Forward, the holodecks and the gym. "Now, since that's too much information at one time for anybody but Data, you can use the comm panels on the wall to find out where you are and how to get where you want to go." Touching the panel, he said, "Computer, show me the way to the arboretum."

Gasping softly, Rosemary's eyes lit up as brightly as the panel before her. It was enough to make her forget her distrust of the two men and move from the security of her position against the wall. Studying the diagram of the ship - complete with directions to the selected destination - she quickly memorized the route and experienced a tiny rush of exhilaration at the acquisition of the simple piece of knowledge. She didn't feel quite so lost any more. Now she knew where she was and knew there was someplace else to go. She wasn't glad the arboretum was on deck 12, but at least it was in the opposite direction from Sickbay.

"How wonderful," she murmured, resting her fingertips lightly on the flat panel. "Will it show me everything?"

Geordi scarcely got in a nod before her inquisitive enthusiasm had launched another barrage.

"What else can it do? Will it answer other questions?"

"The computer that runs the comm panel is what really answers the questions, and it should be able to tell you anything you want to know. What's on your mind?"

"Two things... Who is Data, and what's a holodeck?"

He let the smile show this time. "You do pay attention, Rosemary. Just like..." Seeing her face darken as she anticipated his comparison he amended quickly, "Like someone else I know," and was rewarded with an answering smile. "You can access it anywhere on the ship."

"How?"

"Like I did a moment ago, just talk to it. Computer, who is Data?"

This time, the panel didn't light up, and Rosemary was startled by the disembodied voice that came from the ceiling. A woman's voice, its monotone delivery hovering somewhere between boredom and ennui. "Data; Lieutenant Commander; second officer of the USS Enterprise..."

x~x

_'There are too damn many people on this ship,'_ Rosemary thought angrily as she stalked down the corridor, her feet thudding audibly on the carpeted deck, despite her lack of shoes. Oh, they were nice enough, just as Geordi said they would be...

What he didn't mention was that they would all be looking at her like she had two heads - and neither one of them answered to the name Beverly. The ones that spoke to her stuttered and stammered while the others just gaped or stared at the floor in embarrassment.

Now, alone in the hallway, she could still feel eyes on her, boring holes through her, trying to find someone she knew wasn't inside.

She was frightened... angry... lonely... uncertain... and a dozen other feelings all scrambled together. The need to run was beginning to surface again, but she fought it down. She wasn't sure why she wanted to stay here, but she wasn't about to let them run her off.

Realizing she had been walking without paying attention to distance or direction, she stopped to look around in hopes of getting enough information to ask the computer an intelligent question. It wasn't easy since the whole damn ship was done in the same monotonous colors as her cabin.

The closest door, to her left, was double-paneled and larger than any other she had seen before.

'Deck 4 - Main Shuttle Bay' the sign read.

Logic told her that if Sickbay was for sick people, then a shuttle bay was for shuttles. Logic failed to tell her just what a shuttle was.

_'Might as well find out,'_ she told herself. Who knew when any small piece of information might come in handy?

She stepped closer as she had learned to do and - though she still hadn't figured out why it worked - the door split in two, each side sliding back into the doorframe. The room beyond was enormous, the ceiling rising two decks high. The entire far wall looked like yet another set of doors. Unable to comprehend the idea of an even larger area beyond this one, she decided to explore where she was for the time being.

Half way across the room sat three odd looking objects, sloped at one end and extending into a rectangular-shaped box.

_'Shuttles?'_ she guessed but wasn't any closer to knowing exactly what they were.

The far right one had a short ramp leading up to the back of it and curiosity propelled her in that direction. Peering inside, she was surprised to find it quite roomy.

_'Even that big guy, Worf, could stand up in here.'_ But it had the same dull décor as the rest of the ship.

She was so engrossed in her inspection that she didn't notice the man seated at the other end until he swiveled his chair around to face her. Startled, she took several steps backwards when she saw his golden skin and pale eyes. "Isn't anybody around here normal?" she muttered then berated herself, "For somebody who didn't even have a name two hours ago, I certainly have a lot of nerve criticizing other people!"

"Hello, Rosemary."

He - she assumed it was a he - didn't seem surprised to see her. Or curious. Or frightened.

"How do you know my name?" Even as she asked the question she decided she liked him already. The other people she had met on her exploration had all insisted on calling her 'Beverly' or 'Dr. Crusher'. That insistence had led to more than one unpleasant scene - which accounted for her current bad mood.

"Geordi told me. He has informed everyone of the name you have chosen."

"Everyone? Geordi gets around." She wrinkled her nose at the idea of so many people talking about her then dismissed the disquieting thought as one she didn't care to deal with right now. She was getting quite adept at that. "So you know who I am... what's your name?"

"My name is Data. I am -"

"Second officer of the USS Enterprise, I know," she said with a grin of recognition. "The computer told me that along with a lot of other stuff. Are you really a machine? You look pretty humanoid to me. Well, except for the skin... and the eyes... and the funny hair." She waited for him to get mad or laugh, but he just cocked his head as though she had changed languages in mid-sentence. She decided to try something else. "If you're a machine, does your skin feel like... well, like _skin_?"

Data obligingly held out his arm, and she ran her fingers lightly over the back of his hand.

"Oh! It's warm," she murmured as her eyes lit with child-like wonder. "It does feel like skin!"

"Dr. Soong, my creator, attempted to make me appear as human as possible while also giving me distinctive characteristics so as not to confuse people. This particular tinting of the polymer component of my outer sheath was one of those characteristics. However, I have since determined that it is not a choice I would have made. When I created my child, I allowed Lal the choice of which species and gender she would prefer. So that she would be similar to me, she chose a human female, although with more naturally occurring skin tones. I can show you a picture if you wish to see the difference." Data was puzzled to see tears fill Rosemary's eyes. "Have I said something to upset you?"

"It's not you," she assured him, brushing away the tiny drop that had spilled over at his concerned inquiry. "I just keep discovering things I don't have, like friends... and family." She sniffled softly. "Geordi told me you don't have feelings, but you sounded so proud of Lal... I don't have anything like that."

She gave a forced, shaky laugh, trying to find a way to change the disturbing subject. "Hell, I don't have enough memory to know what a shuttle is!"

"You are in a shuttle."

Her laugh was genuine this time. "Thank you, but I had figured that much out. What does it do?"

Data's explanation was informative and detailed. She wondered how she could be so certain that she knew nothing about shuttles, and yet still understand everything he said.

Whatever it was, it made her feel better. She had felt like a slow, plodding child, answering 'I don't know' to so many of the questions asked of her. Having something make sense was a welcome bolster to her self-confidence.

Rosemary let him go on, willing to listen for as long as he cared to talk.

-tbc-


	4. Chapter 4

One week later

"According to Counselor McKenna, she settled in to her new quarters quite well - after a bit of redecorating."

Picard nodded absently to Riker's report. Somehow, the idea of Beverly's cabin being decks away rather than just down the corridor gave a sense of permanence to the situation he did not wish to contemplate.

"She's taken a shine to Geordi apparently so he's spent a good deal of his free time with her, and as you know, Rosemary turns out to have been an acceptable suggestion, so that's what everybody's calling her..."

New quarters, new name...

If Beverly adapted well enough to all the changes, would they ever be able to bring her back to herself?

"May I ask a question, Captain?"

Picard forced himself to focus on his first officer. "What is it, Number One?"

"Why 'Rosemary'?" He paused, hoping he wasn't intruding on something personal. "I mean, what made you suggest that particular name?"

"It's a line of Ophelia's in 'Hamlet'. 'There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.' It seemed... fitting."

Riker saw the unmistakable sadness in the Captain's face, which made his next question even harder. "Sir, the other day Deanna and I were talking, and she mentioned the possibility of a specialized facility..."

"No," Picard interrupted sharply. The grim set of his features was a clear indication that he would tolerate no argument - not that Riker had ever intended to give him one. "The counselor and I spoke with Wesley again last night. He feels, as I do, that she needs to be with her friends... with her family. Beverly stays here."

"I'm glad, sir. I didn't like the idea of sending her away either." The emphatic undertone in Will's voice got his attention, and Riker flushed slightly at the captain's scrutiny. "I owe her," he clarified, "for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I'd have been dead more than once if it weren't for Beverly. And as you said, she needs to be with her family."

"We all owe her, Will," Picard murmured, and Riker was startled to see a glittering in his eyes that could only be tears. "I just hate the fact that this is the way we get to repay her."

x~x

With Judith McKenna handling Beverly's case, Deanna was able to concentrate on the senior officers and Beverly's staff.

Most of the reactions were typical for this sort of situation.

...Anger, of course, in all cases, even bordering on pure rage from the captain...

...hurt when Beverly failed to recognize them...

...guilt when the encounters elicited fear from her...

...frustration and inadequacy at not being able to help.

The vehement thirst for retaliation had also been expected - from Worf... and to a lesser extent Picard.

Deanna was stunned to find something similar in Alyssa Ogawa, of all people. The usually unflappable young nurse spent most of her sessions pacing the room in agitation; unconsciously mimicking her boss's habit of running a hand through her dark hair as her words came tumbling out.

"She's never done deliberate harm to anyone in her life! How could they hurt her, of all people?"

**They were taxing sessions for the counselor, and she dreaded Alyssa's reaction when details of Beverly's trauma - whatever they may be - were brought to light. **

Deanna wasn't looking forward to the revelations herself. Her own imaginings were bad enough... what could someone who did this sort of thing as a profession come up with?

-tbc-


	5. Chapter 5

Rosemary's brow knit in concentration as she sat in front of the terminal. She had surprised herself, given her lack of technical knowledge, when she showed a quick aptitude for learning.

What seemed to intrigue everyone else was her interest in clothes.

She had a flair for design, occasionally picking elements from several items in the clothing replicator files to develop her own version. Usually though, they were her own ideas from start to finish, and she could often be found in the arboretum or Ten Forward with a sketch pad containing page after page of her drawings.

Her creations seemed to come alive with movement. She chose light, airy fabrics to make up blousy sleeves and full pants or skirts. Nothing was ever tightly fitted or clinging. The colors ranged from rich, vibrant jewel tones to muted pastels to add more dimension.

It was a flamboyant style they hadn't expected.

x~x

Jean-Luc's steps slowed as he rounded the corner and saw Beverly standing outside Holodeck 4.

_'Not Beverly,'_ he reminded himself. _'She's Rosemary for now.'_

He hadn't seen her since the scene in Sickbay over three weeks ago, but all reports said she was adjusting well and wasn't as frightened of people and places as she had been in the beginning, even allowing Deanna to sit in on some counseling sessions.

There had been no opportunity for him to run into her casually and Counselor McKenna had been adamantly against orchestrated encounters. She wanted Rosemary to meet people as naturally as possible to avoid any potential upsets.

Rosemary hadn't noticed him yet, and he took the time to really look at her. He was glad to note that she had regained some of the weight she had lost and didn't look quite so gaunt any more. She still seemed a little pale, though.

She looked different out of uniform. Her fiery tresses were pulled back into a loose braid, showing off the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders left bare by the narrow straps of the sleeveless dress. The skirt fell in soft folds to mid calf, and the moss green color highlighted her hair and eyes. Catching himself staring, he started forward, intending to offer a casual greeting and keep moving.

She looked up at his approach, and he was surprised when she spoke to him.

"Please..." she broke off, unsure of herself. Rosemary recognized the man although she couldn't think of his name, then she felt her face flush as she remembered making a scene in front of him in Sickbay. She had been confused and frightened then, but as with so many things, he didn't seem in any way alarming now. "Could you... that is, Geordi showed me how to work this, but that was a couple of weeks ago, and I guess I wasn't paying much attention because now I can't seem to get it right."

"I'd be glad to help. Which program did you want to run?"

"Program?" she repeated in puzzlement. "I guess that's the problem. He pushed some things, and it started." She felt unaccountably gauche and ignorant with him in some way that she hadn't with other people. "Well, never mind then, I don't want to keep you from where ever you were going. Maybe Geordi can show it to me again later. I promise to pay attention next time."

"I'm in no hurry. How about a quick lesson?"

His hazel eyes were warm, and his smile was comforting, as though she had known exactly how it would look. _'Why was I so afraid of him before?'_ She shook herself for letting her mind wander. "I don't want to bother you. I seem to be trouble for everyone. I wish I could remember how to do something on my own. That's assuming I already knew how to do this."

He smiled again. "You're not a bother, Rosemary. Operating the holodeck isn't difficult. Now, the computer has a number of stored programs to choose from. Let's narrow it down a bit. Did you want to be indoors or outdoors?"

"Outdoors, please. I wanted to go for a walk."

"All right," he tapped the pad, making sure she could see what he was doing. She leaned over his shoulder, and he could feel her warm breath on his neck. His heart skipped a beat, knowing their closeness meant nothing to her... that he meant nothing to her. Until this moment, he hadn't let himself think about how much he missed Beverly. It was a supreme effort to focus his thoughts back on the task at hand. "Now, did you feel like a little window shopping in the city or would you prefer the country?"

She hesitated, not that she didn't have an answer, but because she had trouble processing the question. The light, spicy cologne he wore was doing decidedly strange yet pleasant things to her senses. She felt a pull toward him that she couldn't begin to understand and was glad she was standing behind him so he couldn't see the slight shiver that ran through her. "The country. Somehow the arboretum seemed too confining today."

"Any special season?"

"Spring - late spring - when the flowers are blooming and the fields are green."

"Ah, the lady is very particular." His compliment was rewarded with a small smile. He made a mental note to tell Deanna about this encounter. She seemed at ease with him, and she was being very definite about her preferences. _'That has to be significant - doesn't it?'_ Aloud he continued, "And did you have a specific planet in mind?"

Her smile faded. Confusion clouded her face and quickly turned to frustration as she realized that this time she didn't have an answer for him. It seemed that this, like so many other things, was something she was supposed to remember. "I don't know," she whispered, despising the three words that seemed to fall from her lips with almost every breath. "Never mind, I'll... I'll come back later."

She turned to leave, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. She looked at his hand then up to his face but didn't pull away.

"You don't have to make all the decisions. May I make a suggestion?" She nodded and watched as he tapped the pad again. "Earth, France, Labarre; late afternoon; five kilometers southeast of the village. That should do it."

"Enter when ready," the computer droned.

The holodeck doors opened to reveal a green vista of gently rolling hills. The village lay in the distance off to the left, bisected by the river. To the right, row upon row of - what, grapes? - followed the contours of the land. As Rosemary stepped through the arch, a light breeze ruffled the loose tendrils of hair that framed her face. She closed her eyes, breathing in the heady mix of grapes and roses and warm, rich soil.

When she turned again to face him, he thought he could see a bit of the old sparkle in her eyes. "This is beautiful! What is this place? Is it real?"

It was almost identical to Beverly's reaction when he had shown it to her except that she had recognized it immediately. He knew Rosemary didn't remember any of her crewmates, but somehow, seeing the lack of recognition of something so inconsequential was even more difficult.

Swallowing his disappointment, he answered her question, wistfulness coloring his words. "It's the village where I grew up. I wrote the program a few years ago. That's my family's vineyard just over there. The path straight ahead eventually forks. One takes you to the village, the other to the vineyard." He turned and gestured to another path off to the left that disappeared over a small hill. "That one leads to the river. It fact, it follows the river away from the village for several kilometers."

Jean-Luc looked around longingly, then made a sudden decision. "Rosemary, would you mind if I shared a bit of the program with you? We don't have to walk together, it's just that I haven't run this program in awhile, and it's been even longer since I've been home. You choose a path, and I'll take the other one."

Gazing down at the cluster of buildings, she said, "I guess if you created the village you put people in it, right?" He nodded, fighting down another flash of familiarity as she lifted a determined chin. "Then I'll take the river. I have enough strangers in my life, I don't think I want another whole village of them just now." Her attempted smile barely curved her lips.

Jean-Luc laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, by habit ignoring the flash of desire when he came in contact with her bare skin. "I hope you enjoy your walk, Rosemary. I'll check back with you before I leave."

This time her smile was easier to accomplish. "Thank you...?"

"Jean-Luc," he supplied, and held his breath, hoping for a hint of recognition.

_'Nothing.'_

The thought was mutual as she desperately sought something to explain the connection - the very personal connection - she felt to this man.

"Thank you, Jean-Luc," was all she said.

He watched her walk away, her face tilted toward the warm sun. With a small sigh, he turned and set off on his own exploration.

x~x

When Jean-Luc found her again, half an hour later, she was under a large tree near the river's edge. She had removed her shoes and was sitting with her forehead resting on her drawn up knees. He knew that the shoes were a special accessory. Many of the tales he heard carried the envious detail of her 'aversion' to footwear. The pale green toenail polish was a bit of a surprise, though.

"Rosemary?" He kept his voice low, trying not to startle her.

Her head snapped up, then she turned away from him. She wasn't quick enough. He saw the tears on her face, could see the damp spots on her dress.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he knelt on one knee next to her, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder.

She shrugged away from his touch, replying sarcastically, "All right? Why shouldn't I be all right?" She scrubbed the heel of her hand across her cheeks to remove the last of the tears.

Jean-Luc desperately wished that Deanna were here for this. He had no idea what he was doing and was afraid of making things worse. It was probably pushing his luck, but he went on. "Please tell me what's wrong. I'd like to help."

"What's wrong?" She laughed harshly. "I finally found something on this ship I can understand, and it's a holodeck program."

"I'm sorry, I'm not following you." He sat down facing her, not too close, but within touching distance.

She waved her hand to indicate their surroundings, "All this, it looks real, it feels real," she scooped up a fist full of dirt then threw it aside, "but it's not real. It's just a facade covering an empty room. That's what I am. A nice package that happens to be empty."

"Rosemary," he began, groping for words to comfort her, but she cut him off.

"That's another illusion. Rosemary. Hell, my name isn't even real."

"You didn't exactly like your real name the last time we talked." He hoped his faint grin and casual tone would diffuse some of her anger.

"I'm not Beverly!" she snapped, then blushed and ducked her head.

Her inclination was always to speak first and think afterwards, but then curbing her tongue wasn't one of her more pressing issues. Most of her time was divided between claiming ignorance of almost everything and apologizing for something... like now.

"But that's no excuse for the scene I made then or for yelling at you now. Sorry about that. Everyone says I'm Beverly, but I don't believe it. Wouldn't I know if there was someone else inside of me trying to get out?" She pleated the hem of her dress with nervous fingers. She couldn't help being curious about this person they said she was, but she didn't want anybody to think she was beginning to accept the idea either.

"Would you... tell me about her? About Beverly?" Her request was hesitant, uncertain that she wanted to hear what he might have to say but somehow compelled to do so.

Jean-Luc tried to decipher what had brought on this unusual interest in Beverly. From what he understood, Rosemary had been vehement in refusing to discuss her real identity. Wishing again for guidance, he simply decided to answer whatever questions she felt comfortable enough to ask. "What would you like to know?"

Rosemary blinked in confusion. She had expected him to start talking without any direction from her. The material between her fingers bunched tighter. What did she want to know? She looked at the man sitting next to her. He seemed nice enough.

_'Did Beverly like him? Is he being nice to me because he liked Beverly or just because I needed help with the holodeck?'_

Perhaps that was a place to start.

"Was she... were you... were you friends?"

"No."

She looked away, strangely disappointed by the response.

He freed her skirt from her stiff fingers, smoothing out the wrinkles before taking her hand and holding it between his until she raised her eyes to meet his again. "That was the wrong question. Were we friends? No. Are we friends? Yes. You, either as Beverly or as Rosemary, will always be my friend, and I will always be yours."

She ducked her head again, warmed beyond all rational reason by his words. Tears pressed hotly behind her eyes as she looked at their clasped hands, wondering why his mere touch made her feel safe. It also made her stomach do an odd little flip-flop. Her free hand crept up, and her index finger nervously wrapped itself in a lock of auburn hair as she cleared her throat, trying to oust the confusing emotions suddenly filling her. "How did you meet her?"

He noticed that she still referred to herself in the third person. He chose, instead, to treat their conversation as a rather unusual reminiscence session. "I was on leave from my ship, the Stargazer. You were a second year student at Starfleet Medical and dating my best friend, Jack Crusher." He paused, searching for any sign of recognition.

She was putting together a different puzzle. "Crusher? She married him?"

He nodded and took a chance. "A few months later; Wesley was born the following year."

"She has a husband? And a son? Must be a close knit family if this is the first I've heard of them." She hated the bitter edge she had unaccountably put to her words. _'Why do I care if Beverly had a husband and a son? They certainly mean nothing to me.'_

Jean-Luc continued despite her sarcasm. "Jack died when your son was five. Wesley is grown and on his own now. He knows what happened, but he wanted to give you time to adjust. We thought it best for him not to come here until you were ready."

He watched the storm clouds gather in her face and wondered what part of his statement had set her off.

Her eyes flashed indignantly, and she jerked her hand free, fighting her skirt as she got to her knees. It gave her a bit of a height advantage, forcing him to look up into her blazing blue eyes. "We thought? You've been discussing me? With whom? No, let me guess, with Judith and Deanna and probably every other therapist on this infernal ship. What gives you the right..." she broke off her tirade when she realized he was shaking. "What are you laughing at?"

When he hung his head and kept laughing, she reached out unthinkingly and slapped his shoulder. It only made him laugh more so she did it again, harder. That brought his head up in time to see her open hand raised with the unmistakable intention of striking him once more... and she clearly would not be aiming for his shoulder.

Jean-Luc grabbed her wrists, and caught off balance, she had no defense as he pulled her forward, angling her body across his then twisting so that when they ended up flat on the ground she was trapped beneath him, her hands pinned over her head.

"It's time you remembered some of your manners, Rosemary, he said firmly, "such as it isn't polite to hit." The laughter returned to his eyes as he grinned down at her. "Then again, just this once I'm glad to see that legendary Howard temper come to life. It's much better than the morose little mouse I found sitting here a few minutes ago. But, to answer your 'question', yes, we've been discussing you... because we care and we want to help."

She turned away, refusing to look at him, but it had nothing to do with what he was saying.

Heat rushed through her as they lay pressed together - and it wasn't from the brief exertion. Pure, primal, sexual heat ignited every nerve ending where they touched.

Her brain clouded with confusion, unable to tell her whether she should push him away or beg him to kiss her. _'How can I feel something this strong for a man I just met?'_

The decision was made for her as he rolled to one side and rose easily to his feet, brushing the grass from his uniform. A quick glance in his direction allowed her to shun his outstretched hand as she scrambled to her feet unassisted.

Ignoring her still smoldering fury, he took her elbow. "If the temper is back, I'd be willing to bet you're hungry, too... and that's good because so am I. Have you been to Ten Forward?" At her nod, he called for the holodeck arch and led her out into the corridor. "Remember how to get there?" He smiled to himself as she tossed her head and marched away. At least she was going in the right direction...

...And she hadn't heard the slight hoarseness when he spoke. His minor retaliation had seemed like a good idea until he found himself lying on top of her - and half seriously considering giving her a real reason to slap him cross-eyed.

His thoughts scattered when she abruptly wheeled around, retraced her steps and tapped the appropriate key to open the holodeck door. He watched silently as she returned to the place under the tree where she had left her shoes. Scooping them up, she moved to the door again.

"Computer, end program," she snapped, never breaking stride... and never looking at Picard.

Jean-Luc was fairly certain that the order to end the program was a reflex. He wondered if she realized she had remembered something, even something as minor as shutting down the holodeck. His next meeting with Deanna was going to be a long one if Beverly - Rosemary - kept this up.

"Deck ten," Rosemary instructed the turbolift as they entered. The captain watched as she slipped her shoes not onto her feet but into the large pockets of her dress. It was exactly the sort of thing he knew Beverly longed to do. In those early years, with Jack and Walker, he had never seen her in shoes if she didn't have to be. There was no Starfleet regulation against officers going barefoot while off-duty, but he understood a thing or two about self-imposed limits.

All heads turned as the Captain entered Ten Forward. His presence alone would have caught their attention, but the identity of his companion was of particular interest...

...That and her bare feet.

x~x

The crew had unobtrusively vacated the three tables surrounding the corner one where the Captain and Rosemary sat, having learned over the last few weeks - sometimes the hard way - not to crowd her. It was almost as painful to them as it was to her when claustrophobia set off an eruption of panic-induced, redheaded temper.

Mostly it was the fact that they cared too much about her, whatever she called herself, to upset her when they could avoid it. In this case, it also gave them a rare chance to watch the Captain interact with the new version of the woman they all knew he loved.

"This has been very nice. Thank you," Rosemary said with a small sigh, as she laid down her fork and pushed her plate away.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, he thought she was going to say something. Instead, she turned her attention to the window instead, a frown creasing her brow. Reaching out, she briefly rested her fingers against the transparent barrier. "It looks like black velvet," she said, voice low, barely audible above the general noise of the large room. "I keep thinking it should be warm, but then I'm always surprised when it's cold. So many things look one way and turn out to be something else."

He was certain that the comment, however true, wasn't what she was thinking about. "What's troubling you?"

Turning back to face him, she replied evasively, "You don't have time for that list, Jean-Luc."

"Then pick one... but be nice to me and make it a little one."

His smile was infectious, and she wondered again at the security she felt with him. "Well, how about the fact that..." Suddenly embarrassed by the downright inconsequential nature of what had popped into her head, she stammered, "N-never mind, it's not important."

"It is to you, Rosemary. Please tell me."

She looked at him for a long moment before resigning herself to the fact that he wasn't going to give up without an answer.

None of them ever did.

At least he appeared to be genuinely interested. She tried to find words that wouldn't make her sound... trite. "Everyone's always concerned that I have someone to eat lunch and dinner with, and I do appreciate it, but... it's just..." She wrinkled her nose, fresh embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Well, for some reason I hate eating breakfast alone and nobody thinks about that." Blushing under the warmth of his smile, she added, "I know, it sounds so foolish!"

"It's not foolish at all," Jean-Luc assured her. "I know exactly how you feel. I don't much care for breakfasting alone either. I would be very happy to have you join me tomorrow, if you would care to."

Rosemary stiffened, angry that she had opened herself to be patronized again, especially after the incident on the holodeck. "I wasn't fishing for an invitation," she snapped defensively, her voice rising along with her agitation. "And I don't need a baby sitter every moment of the day. I only answered your questions because that's all I do, answer questions. I - "

"That's enough," he said in a sharp undertone, aware that the rest of the room was trying not to look at them.

Feeling like a chastised child, she slouched down in her chair with a huff.

Softening his tone, he continued, "I assure you, the invitation was sincere, and a simple 'no' would have sufficed. Rosemary, no one on this ship is ever going to make you do anything you don't want to do. You have my word."

She fidgeted with her napkin, pleased and yet discomfited by his words. "It wouldn't have been a simple 'no'," she murmured, not looking at him.

"What?"

"I wouldn't have just said 'no'. I would have said 'no, thank you'." She couldn't have said why, but - despite whatever it was about him that had terrified her so much that day in Sickbay - now she felt very secure with him... and very attracted to him. For the first time in the four weeks she had been in this place, she actually felt herself begin to relax. She looked up at him, eyes sparkling impishly. "I do have some manners... occasionally. But, I'd like to say 'yes, please' - if the invitation is still open?"

Jean-Luc smiled back at her. "Consider it a standing offer."

The light in her eyes renewed his hopes that this might soon be over.

-tbc-


	6. Chapter 6

Rosemary fairly flew into Judith's office, flushed and out of breath. "I'm sorry I'm late. We were talking after breakfast, and I forgot all about the time. If Jean-Luc hadn't gotten that call from Admiral Ne... Necha... oh, whoever it was, we'd probably still be sitting there." She forced herself to join Deanna on the small sofa although she sat as far away as possible.

"You had breakfast with the Captain?" Judith asked, trying to sound casual.

"Hmm," Rosemary replied absently, tucking her feet under her. She reached over and took a handful of green grapes out of the bowl on the table. She smiled at the vision of rolling countryside they evoked. "He invited me at lunch yesterday."

"You had lunch with him?" Being casual was becoming harder for both counselors to accomplish.

"I was having trouble with the holodeck, he came by and he helped me. Oh, he has the most beautiful program! France, I think he said. It's where he grew up. It's got flowers and hills and a river... I think he went to the village, or maybe to the vineyard." She popped a grape into her mouth. "I walked down by the river, sat under a tree. He seemed genuinely concerned when he found me crying and... well things just sort of went on from there." She suddenly realized the other two women were staring at her. "Did I do something wrong?"

Deanna patted her arm and tried not to be upset when she pulled away. "Of course not. We were just a little surprised, that's all."

"You were rather... disturbed the last time you talked to him," Judith added.

"I know, we talked about that," she replied with a silly grin.

Deanna and Judith exchanged curious glances. They realized they had been doing that quite a lot already during this session. "What else did you talk about?"

"I told him I felt like a fake, like a holodeck program where everything looks real but isn't. Then I asked him some questions about Beverly. I got really angry when he said he'd been discussing me with the two of you, but he just laughed and said he was glad to see me mad for a good reason. I should have been mad at him for that but somehow I wasn't. Anyway, after that we went to lunch in Ten Forward which is when I said I didn't like having breakfast alone..."

They were staring again. The grapevine should have had this story all over the ship and yet neither of them had heard a thing about it.

"What now?" she asked in exasperation.

"You seem very comfortable with him," Judith noted, treading lightly. "How was breakfast?"

Rosemary smiled at the memory. "Very nice. He had everything laid out by the time I got there. Somehow he knew exactly what I would like. We talked about all sorts of things. Oh," she added around another grape, "and it appears I know quite a bit about the works of somebody named Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare?"

"Yep. I said something, and Jean-Luc looked at me with the same face you two keep using. Then he started quizzing me, and I knew all the answers. Even corrected him on one. And before you ask, no I don't know how I know it; it just sort of... came out."

Deanna giggled. "I wish I'd seen you correcting the Captain." She paused, then laughed again. "Okay, I have seen that, but on Shakespeare? That would have been priceless!"

"Did you say 'captain'?"

There was an edge to the question that confused the two women.

"Yes, Captain Jean-Luc Picard," Judith confirmed.

Rosemary choked on the grape she had just started to swallow. "You mean to tell me that I stopped the captain? And asked him to help me? With the holodeck?" Suddenly she was on her feet, pacing the room, grapes flying as she waved her hands. "God, I must have sounded stupid calling him 'Jean-Luc' all the time!"

Her face flamed as, unbidden, the sensation of being pinned beneath him once again rushed through her. Pushing down the confusing feelings, she whirled around as another thought struck her. "And that breakfast invitation? He was just being polite, wasn't he? He never expected me to say yes."

"Rosemary, how did you know his name in the first place?" Judith asked calmly. The tactic had proved useful in past sessions to stem the tide of her patient's fury... sometimes.

"He told me that when we were on the holodeck," came the dismissive reply as she resumed her anxious roaming. "Why didn't he tell me he was the captain? Why the hell didn't somebody tell me?"

Deanna planted herself in Rosemary's path to get her attention. "We didn't tell you because we didn't realize you didn't know." Her voice softened reassuringly, which only distressed Rosemary all the more. "You didn't do anything wrong. As for breakfast, the captain doesn't issue invitations if he doesn't want them accepted. Remember, you said he seemed to know what you would like to eat? That's because the two of you always had breakfast together."

"No, we didn't!" Rosemary ground out. "He always had breakfast with Beverly! I'm not Beverly!" With an irate groan, she stormed out of the room.

Deanna turned, narrowly missing a grape that blended with the carpet. Reaching down, she picked it up then tossed it to Judith. "Good session, don't you think?" she asked wryly.

"Lively, to say the least." With a mock grimace Judith added, "I didn't get a chance to ask if she went to breakfast barefoot or if she left her shoes behind in the Captain's cabin when she realized she was late."

x~x

"Come," Picard called in response to the door chime, grateful for the interruption. He had slogged through half a dozen reports and was ready for a break.

Deanna entered the Ready Room, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

"What can I do for you, Counselor?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you were planning a career change." It was hard to keep a straight face at his look of shock. "Well, you do seem to be getting quite adept at counseling patients yourself... even using holodeck therapy." She settled into the chair across from his desk, eager to hear the explanation he would have.

"Ah yes, that," he said sheepishly. "I did intend to inform you of yesterday's events, but other things came up, and..." he trailed off, guilt making the words stick in his throat. "My apologies, Counselor, there are no excuses when you're dealing with a case like this - "

"Captain," she interrupted, "it's all right. In fact, I'm here to ask you to help us again." She told him about the session with Rosemary, adding, "It's mostly frustration at finding another thing she wasn't aware of, but now she is also embarrassed to think she took you away from your duties. She's feeling that she is a burden to all of us. I tried to tell her that the two of you had been friends for several years, but she quite rightly pointed out that you had been friends with Beverly, not her."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Don't you think a trained therapist ought to be handling this? All I did yesterday was answer a few of her questions."

At her prompting, he recounted the time he spent with Rosemary, editing the precise details of his response to her angry outburst.

"You handled it quite well, Captain," Deanna assured him, knowing all the while that there was something he wasn't saying. "Even without her memory, whether we call her Beverly or Rosemary, she is still Beverly. And like Beverly, Rosemary will only ask questions that she is ready to hear the answers to - even when she knows she may not like those answers."

"What do you want me to do now?" Picard asked, tugging on his uniform top.

Deanna covered a smile as she watched the predictable gesture of determination. "Exactly what you've already done - talk to her, be her friend."

Being her friend wasn't quite as easy as the counselor seemed to think. Throughout breakfast, he had been searching for a sign that some part of Beverly remembered their morning ritual. When none had been forthcoming he had wondered once again if it was a good idea to interfere with whatever treatment the doctors were using.

Now he was being asked to continue stumbling blindly through the treacherous labyrinth of desperately wanting Beverly back and being certain that he would destroy everything in his overeager efforts.

He thought about the way Rosemary had smiled Beverly's smile, never knowing who he was or what they meant to each other... whatever that was.

It was narcissistic, but he wanted Beverly back as much for him as for her own well-being.

"I'm going to need a lot of help with this, Counselor."

x~x

Rosemary sulked in her cabin for two days, refusing to talk to anyone. All attempts to speak with her face to face were rebuffed with a stern "Go away" - shouted through the door.

The closed door was unusual for her. In a few short weeks, the families who also had quarters on Deck 14 had grown accustomed to her unusual, extremely non-Starfleet habit of leaving her door open when she was at home. Judith surmised that, while Rosemary didn't actively remember Beverly's captivity, the open door represented an escape hatch. It was a logical deduction for, in following up on the other survivors, the counselor had noted that nearly all had developed claustrophobia to varying degrees.

There were differing opinions as to the reasons behind the friendly overtures Rosemary made to passersby, particularly the children.

Judith believed the extroversion was less a desire for company than an urgent need not to be alone. The fact that she was drawn more to the children could be that she didn't see them as a threat the way she might see the adults.

Deanna, on the other hand, took the stance that it was a bit of Beverly showing through. As CMO, Beverly came into contact with more of the crew than the rest of the senior staff combined, and this could be the subconscious safe feeling that Deanna had anticipated too soon between Beverly and the captain. Beverly had always taken more time with the children in her care because she knew from personal experience how frightening illness could be for them. Deanna also recalled Beverly saying once that it was easier to deal with the children because she often felt that rank became a barrier to a comfortable doctor/patient relationship with adults. Rank wasn't an obstacle for Rosemary, but the kids had fewer expectations which made them easier to deal with.

Whatever the reasons, when her door remained closed for two days, it upset a great many people.

Picard had to do some creative thinking to find a way to reach her.

x~x

The whine of a transporter beam nearly scared her to death since she had no idea what it was. Cautiously, she approached the bouquet of red and cream colored flowers that had miraculously appeared on the table.

_'Camellias,'_ came the automatic identification. The anger she had held so closely as a shield against her embarrassment drained away when she read the accompanying note. She smiled at the thoughtfully worded apology on behalf of himself and his crew for not providing her with sufficient information to make her completely comfortable about the workings of the Enterprise.

Her heart felt unspeakably lighter. Two days of solitude and confinement had begun to grate on her nerves, but she had been unable to come up with a graceful apology for her childish behavior. They might be strangers, they might want her to be someone else, but they were all she had at the moment, and she liked them... especially Jean-Luc.

She didn't eat breakfast alone the next morning.

-tbc-


	7. Chapter 7

"Come on in, Deanna," Judith called already knowing whose presence the door chime announced.

The dark-haired woman entered, laughing as she said, "I thought I was the empathic one around here."

"Well, there's empathic and there's empathic," came the reply along with an unspoken indication to take a seat. "There's also the fact that you're supposed to be here right now, so that raised the odds of me being right."

Judith dropped heavily into an overstuffed chair, propped her feet on the low table in front of her, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Career-wise it might not be appropriate for her to appear so casual in front of her boss, but she was in her own quarters and she intended to relax.

Seated on the sofa, Deanna remained silent as well, impressed by the young woman's ability to be so at ease. She also sensed a touch of defiance and liked that, too.

The Betazoid counselor was only now, after six weeks, willing to fully concede that the petite blonde was capable of handling such a difficult case - and the challenge of dealing with Beverly/Rosemary.

A painful image flashed into Deanna's mind.

_When Beverly awoke in Sickbay after her foiled escape attempt, her hysteria reached new proportions. As though a wild animal had suddenly been caged, there was a genuine concern that she might injure herself as she struggled against the restraining field._

_Before she could cross the room to her friend's side, Deanna was astonished to feel a singularly calm and centered presence enter the chaotic scene. She was further surprised to see that it was Judith McKenna._

_Having softly bid the medical staff to give her some room, Judith was standing silently next to the biobed. Beverly stopped struggling although she remained tense._

_"My name is Judith," the young woman said in a voice that was soothing and non-patronizing. "Do you know who you are or where you are?" _

_Beverly shook her head, her eyes darkening in confusion. _

_"That's okay. You're in the Sickbay of the starship Enterprise. You know that you were injured?" She received a nod in response. "Your physical injuries have been healed, but you have amnesia, which is why you don't know who you are. There are many people here who want to help you if you will let us, but we have to be able to trust you as much as we want you to be able to trust us. I can release the restraining field and let you sit up, but only if you promise not to try to run again." _

_"Please."_

_Heartrending in its plaintiveness, it was the first word Beverly had spoken since she woke up that wasn't a scream._

_Judith adjusted the controls, and Beverly tentatively moved her arms and legs, testing to see if the invisible barrier was truly gone. Her relief at finding that her movements were no longer restricted was almost tangible. She allowed Judith to help her sit up, but when she tried to slide off the bed, a gentle hand was placed on her shoulder._

_"No running, remember?" Judith cautioned._

_Hoarse from her previous screams, Beverly's voice cracked as she pleaded, "Please let me go. I have to get away."_

_"From?"_

_"From here."_

_"Where will you go?"_

_They were simple questions, asked with seemingly honest interest and no hostility, and yet they clearly chafed at her nerves, made her edgy._

_"I don't know." Beverly rubbed her temple, then up to her forehead, trying to dispel some of the new tension brought on by the effort to find answers she didn't have. "I just have to get away."_

_"Leaving the Enterprise isn't possible right now," Judith said matter-of-factly, "but how about we move you into one of the private rooms? Then you won't be quite so 'on display'." _

_A fleeting smile was all Beverly could manage._

_"Are you hungry?" After another weak nod, Judith turned to one of the nurses nearby. "Could you get her something light to eat and maybe something to wear other than this gown?"_

_The nurse hurried away, anxious to help in any way._

_The sight of the usually confident doctor being meekly led away by the woman who was a full head shorter than she was would have been comical if it wasn't so tragic. Deanna choked down a moan as she watched the departing duo. Remembering her duties as ship's counselor, she took the tray of food and fresh pajamas the nurse had brought and followed them._

_Standing just outside the door, Deanna watched the occupants of the tiny room. Despite the presence of a bed and two chairs, both women remained standing... or rather, Judith stood while Beverly continued to move around the room. Her steps were short and jerky, her legs still wobbly after the sedation and her emotional outburst._

_**Trapped**_

_The feeling fairly screamed at Deanna._

_Beverly rubbed her temple as she had earlier._

_"Are you in pain?" Judith asked. "We can give you something for it..."_

_"No!" Beverly whirled to face her, nearly losing her balance as her unsteady legs tried to keep up with the abrupt movement. "I have to stay awake."_

_"Staying awake is better," Judith responded with a small smile to Beverly's surprise at the easy agreement, "but that doesn't mean you have to do it in pain. We can give you a hypo."_

_"A what?"_

_"A hypo. It dispenses medicine directly into the bloodstream."_

_"That hissing thing? No, thank you, I'll live with the pain. At least then I know I'll stay awake."_

_"Beverly, you don't have to..."_

_"Don't call me that! I don't like it."_

_"Why?"_

_She hesitated for a moment but could offer no better answer than the one she had already given. "I don't like it."_

_Judith accepted the vague reasoning, seemingly unconcerned. "All right, what would you prefer to be called?"_

_Her reply, although there wasn't going to be much of one, went unspoken as she caught sight of the dark-haired woman in the doorway. Unconsciously, she backed away._

_Deanna tried to smile as she raised the mental shields that would close out the sudden wave of fear emanating from her friend._

_Fear that had subsided until she had seen Deanna._

_"Food and fresh clothes... just what the doctor ordered." Deanna had tried for cheery, but it came out decidedly forced._

_Accusing blues eyes turned to Judith. "You're a doctor?"_

_"A counselor actually."_

_"I'm not crazy." The insistence was firm, definitive._

_"No one said you were. However, you are in, to say the least, a confusing situation, and I would like to help you deal with it. Unless you'd prefer to work with Counselor Troi?"_

_Beverly's emphatically negative rejoinder rang in Deanna's ears..._

"...for you?"

Deanna blinked, the dark memory still clinging to the edges of her mind. She looked up to see that Judith had risen from her chair and gone to the replicator.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I'm having coffee... hot chocolate for you?"

"No, thanks. I've had too much chocolate since this whole thing started. Lemon tea, please." Deanna rested her head on the back of the couch, trying to relax.

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?" She, of all people, knew a counselor's non-comment when she heard one.

"Just 'hmm'."

"I use that technique myself. What are you trying to get at?"

Judith gave her a knowing look along with the teacup. "Isn't lemon tea Beverly's favorite drink?"

"Is it?" Deanna hedged.

"I distinctly remember you telling me that after a session when Rosemary drank orange juice instead. So why did you choose it now?"

Deanna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. One of the curses of her job was the rare occasion when the tables were turned and the counselor became the counseled. "I came here to discuss Beverly, not me."

"Why shouldn't we talk about you in relation to Beverly?" Judith demanded. "I've been working with Rosemary, and you've been dealing with the senior staff, but who have you talked to about 'this whole thing'? You were thinking about Beverly a minute ago when you were so far away, weren't you?"

Taking another sip of tea was a stall tactic, then with a faint grimace, Deanna set the cup aside. She didn't care for tea, and Judith had hit the mark in concluding that she had chosen it for the tenuous connection to Beverly.

She missed her friend - their talks, their commiserations, their laughs. She always thought Beverly had the best laugh, open and easy. _'Rosemary probably has the same laugh, but there isn't much chance that I'll ever hear it since Rosemary barely tolerates the sight of me.'_

"Everybody hates the Egelloc for what they did to Beverly," she said suddenly. "I hate them for what they took away from me. I know that's completely selfish, and I still can't help it. When I sense her, it's not what I'm used to getting from Beverly. She was... is my best friend, but this part of her... well, Rosemary may not hate me in so many words..."

"Yet she has shown a marked aversion to you," Judith finished for her. "I've been working on that, too. None of the crew is substantially different from the way Beverly left them, but Rosemary's reaction to you is different. She has gotten used to the medical staff - so long as she sees them outside of Sickbay - and she has made friends with the senior officers, especially the Captain and Geordi."

"So her only problems are complete amnesia about her life as Beverly Crusher, a fear of Sickbay..." she hesitated before finishing sadly, "and me. Not the company I'm used to keeping."

"Perhaps the difference is that you've only spent time with her in a professional capacity," Judith mused aloud. "Why don't you try a social situation, one with a few people she already feels comfortable with?"

"Social?" Deanna said primly. "Don't you think that's blurring the lines a bit at this point?"

Judith rolled her eyes melodramatically. "She's my patient, not yours, so there are no lines to blur. Now, do you want your friend back or not?"

"Ouch! You're good! Yes, I do want my friend back." She paused then grinned. "Now my question to you is - are you trying to help me or do you want my job?"

Both women laughed. It was the first nearly light-hearted moment either one of them had had since Rosemary's arrival.

Without further urging, Deanna began to talk - what she knew of Beverly's life that wasn't in the service record; the adventures, trials and tribulations they had shared together, and personal insights that come only from a close friend.

Judith learned a good deal about the doctor who was CMO of the Enterprise... and about the woman whose welfare was of such great concern to virtually everyone on board.

-tbc-


	8. Chapter 8

Deanna arrived at Will's quarters for the weekly poker game as expected. What surprised him, Geordi and Worf was the fact that she was accompanied by Rosemary.

They knew there was still tension between the two women for a reason Rosemary was unable to adequately define. She could never find words to describe the sensation that seemed to touch her mind whenever the dark-haired woman was around. All she would say was that the counselor made her uneasy.

The invitation to join the poker game had been a surprise for Rosemary, especially coming from Deanna. She hadn't spent much time with any of them in a small group, and she was intimidated by the prospect. Still, her curiosity about the people who had been close to Beverly had won out over her insecurity... well, most of it.

"Deanna said it would be all right for me to join you," Rosemary explained as she looked at the men seated around the table. "I can leave if it's a problem."

Will grinned. "It's not a problem. The counselor in Deanna just likes to toss these little tests at us every now and then."

"Will Riker, that's not true!" Deanna protested.

"Yes it is," Rosemary said to no one in particular as she moved slowly through the room, trying to see what she could learn about the Enterprise's First Officer from his décor. When there was no response to her statement she turned to find herself looking that stare again, from all of them. She could tell that even Geordi was doing it through his VISOR. "I don't know if Beverly ever caught it, but I've seen you do it," she explained nervously, a faint blush stealing over her cheeks. "Some are just less obvious than others. Judith is really good at it."

Will and Geordi burst into laughter, but she wasn't sure what was so funny.

Deanna blushed furiously although she realized it was just good-natured teasing. "I thought we came to play poker."

Geordi rose to offer Rosemary a chair, looking down pointedly as she approached. "No shoes again?" he asked with a grin.

She followed his gaze down to the coral nail polish she had chosen to contrast the black skirt she wore. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she replied with mock hauteur, "You people are the official ones around here. I'm just here because I haven't got any place else to go."

From anyone else it could have been interpreted as a play for sympathy. Rosemary made it a simple, declarative statement - 'I haven't got any place else to go.'

None of them could begin to grasp the depth of loneliness that must encompass because they had never felt it. For them, there was always some place. Possibly not a preferred choice, but still a choice.

She never saw the stricken looks they exchanged then quickly hid, but it did seem to her that the conversation wasn't quite as jovial as it had been when she and Deanna first arrived.

x~x

Rosemary played the opening hands conservatively as she got used to the others' style of play. No one commented on the fact that she needed no instructions on how to play.

They were watching her as well. Her bidding techniques were similar to Beverly's, as was her dealing style, but the games she called were more complex and challenging.

_'Apparently Beverly's been holding out on us,'_ Will thought as he found himself learning almost as much about Beverly as he did about Rosemary.

She stacked her chips according to increasing denomination - white, then silver, then gold - just like Beverly, but the stacks were shorter which meant there were more of them. That in turn gave the impression that she had won more... and thereby striking a subtle blow to the confidence of her opponents. They each began to play differently and her number of wins then did increase.

Again like Beverly, Rosemary didn't gloat when she won, although she did use the same triumphant squeal of Beverly's at taking a larger than usual pot.

_'Why does Beverly play differently with us? She's always competitive but winning doesn't seem important to her. Is she trying to prove something to us... or to herself?'_ Will suspected that Rosemary wasn't playing her full game either. His poker master's title would be in serious jeopardy if she did.

They were in the middle of a very interesting hand with a substantial pot at stake. Deanna had folded early and gone to the replicator to get a drink, leaving Rosemary at the table with the three men. What she had called a 'brief respite' was in reality a chance to watch the group. Realizing what she was doing, she recalled the earlier teasing. _'I guess I do use more of these counselor's tests than I thought.'_

"Rosemary, it's your bet," Geordi prompted.

"I'll bet..." Her words trailed off as she stared at the table as though seeing something other than cards and chips.

Deanna watched alertly, hoping for a breakthrough, no matter how small. She nodded as Will darted a bewildered glance at her that fairly shouted for direction.

"You'll bet what, Rosemary?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, then looked swiftly to Worf, then to Geordi. "Hair... a bet about hair. Damn, what was it?" She reached up and twisted a lock of auburn hair around her finger. "Color! A brunette! And... and... shaving." She frowned. "Shaving? That can't be right."

"Oh, yes, it can," Will said, trying to contain his excitement. "What else do you remember?"

She frowned again, then squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recapture the scene that had appeared in her mind. Finally she slumped back in her chair with a groan and rubbed her forehead. "Nothing." She looked around the table again. "All that stuff... was it real?"

"Very real and quite accurate."

She laid her cards on the table with a shaking hand. "I don't like this... seeing things I didn't do."

"It may not be easy, but I'm sure you can handle it..." Geordi said, his warm hand covering hers, "...just like somebody else I know."

Glad to have a personal joke to share with someone, Rosemary smiled, but her eyes had lost their sparkle. "I think I've had enough for one evening. I want to go to my room now."

"Would you like one of us to walk you back?"

"Thanks, Geordi, but I can get there on my own... and if I can't, I'll have the wall draw me a picture."

Moving quickly to the door, she took small comfort in the fact that they were now staring at him.

x~x

For long hours she sat curled in her chair by the window, trying to figure out how she felt. It had been rather exciting when the pictures had flashed into her mind... until it registered that it wasn't her memory. It got worse when she looked into those four faces and realized they were all hoping she was about to turn into Beverly.

She had begun to feel secure here, welcome and almost even wanted. It hurt to know they were simply helping her to get Beverly back. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she wondered forlornly if she would ever find a place where she truly belonged.

-tbc-


	9. Chapter 9

Not enamored with her therapy sessions in general, Rosemary particularly disliked these times, the ones spent in Sickbay. She found it hard to believe that Beverly was a doctor and had spent most of her time here. _'How could anybody do that?'_ Even a few minutes made Rosemary uncomfortable.

The fact that the staff always seemed to be watching her did little to help. _'Looking for Beverly, no doubt, like everyone else.'_

Today was quiet, with two people in for physicals and an assortment of crewmembers who had gotten carried away during some game.

Some of these people were in pain, which pushed Rosemary's anxiety up another notch. Pain was what usually brought people to Sickbay, but it still bothered her. Glancing around at the occupied biobeds, her skin began to crawl... and there was never enough air in here. "Can we go now?" she pleaded, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill she invariably felt.

"How are you feeling?" Judith asked.

"You ask me that every time, and every time I tell you I hate it in here! I don't understand why I have to do this. There's so much pain..." The shadows in her eyes made it clear she was not reacting to the actual scene around her.

Judith let her hand rest lightly on the other woman's arm, trying to call her back from the dark vision she was seeing without losing the memory. "Rosemary?"

The muted sounds of Sickbay were suddenly overwhelmed by the arrival of more than half a dozen members of the Engineering department. The room erupted into controlled pandemonium as able-bodied personnel assisted injured crewmates while detailing the accident the repair crew had suffered.

A moment later, the door hissed open again, and Geordi La Forge staggered in with another one. The man's strength gave out before they could reach a biobed, and he collapsed to the floor, dragging Geordi down with him.

Instantly, Rosemary had grabbed a tricorder from a nearby shelf and was kneeling next to him, running the scanner over the injured man. Along with the burns on his hands and several broken bones, a long gash marred his face. It angled across his forehead, through his left eyebrow, skipping mercifully over his eye to continue down the curve of his cheek, ending just in front of his ear.

Rosemary's eyes darted between the patient and the read-out as she made an adjustment then passed the instrument over his face again. She glanced up to find Geordi watching her. The VISOR covering his eyes in no way hid the expression behind it - a look of complete trust.

She froze.

Geordi saw the confusion on her face. "Go ahead, Doc," he urged reassuringly, "you're doing fine."

She felt a tidal wave of panic rise within her, blurring her vision, choking off her air. The tricorder fell from limp fingers as her mind's eye filled with terrifying images.

Judith's sharp voice calling her name shattered the image, and Rosemary skittered sideways, away from the man on the floor, muttering unintelligibly.

Kneeling in front of her, Judith blocked Rosemary's view of the rest of the room. "Rosemary?" she said, softly this time. When there was no response, she hastily called for an emergency beam-out to her office and wrapped a consoling arm around the distraught woman's shoulders.

Just before the transporter gripped them, Judith turned to see tormented blue eyes staring into her green ones. She leaned in, barely making out the whispered words.

"I didn't do it. I didn't hurt him... It wasn't my fault..."

x~x

Late that afternoon, the senior staff convened in the Observation lounge to discuss Rosemary's case. Picard allowed the two counselors to conduct the meeting and the other officers to raise the concerns he didn't want to give voice to.

"You can almost see when it happens," Geordi said, "but it's as though she doesn't realize that she's remembered something until it's pointed out to her. Like with the tricorder in Sickbay... she just picked it up and started treating Lt. Zeile."

Deanna nodded. "For Beverly, practicing medicine is a conditioned reflex. In a crisis, she goes on automatic."

"Then why don't the memories and abilities stay with her once she realizes what's happened?" As a witness to the disturbing scene, Geordi seemed almost desperate for some kind of understanding.

"Some of them do," Judith acknowledged, "but not the ones connected with medicine."

"Because that's what the Egelloc used against her?"

Judith confirmed Will's supposition then turned as Data spoke.

"I am puzzled about one thing, Counselor McKenna. Rosemary does not seem to be eager to return to her life as Dr. Crusher. In fact, she has been quite adamant about not doing so. Why would a person not wish to know who they are?"

At that, Picard leaned forward. Deanna was the only one who saw and understood the meaning behind the movement. She knew the Captain was deeply frightened by even the remotest possibility that Beverly might never return.

"It's not Rosemary who is fighting the return but Beverly," Judith replied. "If, as we suspect, the Egelloc altered her memories, then she has been made to believe that she did some very terrible things - probably to her closest friends. Beverly feels guilty for 'hurting' you and can't accept that you were **not** injured or that you would forgive her. Rosemary is a sort of gatekeeper, and as long as she is here, Beverly doesn't have to face what happened to her."

Will smoothed his beard to cover his worried frown. "What is making the memories return, if she's so against facing them?

"Amnesia is a self-defense mechanism, protecting Beverly from what she isn't able to handle right now. As with any major injury - in this case mental rather than physical - a gradual return is the best way to insure a full recovery. Piece by piece, Beverly's memory should return, in stages that she will be able to deal with... pleasant ones first followed by increasingly difficult ones. It's not going to be easy for her - or for us." Judith paused to look around the table, making sure they understood the enormity of the situation. "We have to be prepared to lose a lot of ground with Rosemary before she starts to work through the memories."

-tbc-


	10. Chapter 10

As the memory flashes increased, nightmares joined the repertoire of chaos inside Rosemary's mind.

The memories she learned to handle. Since they weren't hers, she began to think of them more as small plays, each performed by the same set of actors. With each new one, she asked questions, filled in gaps. She learned about Beverly Crusher but still allowed for no connection between herself and the doctor.

It also helped that most people learned to control their reactions and only occasionally did one of them slip, making her realize that they were disappointed when this memory or that one didn't make her snap into being Beverly.

The nightmares were completely different, and she tried to avoid them at all costs. The scene in Sickbay three days ago had triggered a particularly vicious one that became more vivid each night.

Rosemary began wandering the ship in the wake of traumatic bouts of dreaming. Each morning, members of the senior staff received concerned reports of her midnight rambles. Deanna and Judith both tried to talk to her about what was keeping her up at night, but once she understood they would want details about the nightmares, she always refused to discuss them.

x~x

Rosemary strolled down the corridor, not really aware of her surroundings. She liked this time on the Enterprise.

_'What had Jean-Luc called it? Ah yes, the oh-so-obvious 'night shift', as though one can tell day from night on a starship.' _

The need to escape from her cabin had been especially intense tonight, and she had moved quickly to put some distance between herself and the darkened cabin that seemed even darker because of her dreams.

At least at night she could walk without continually being stopped and asked if she was all right. The people who saw her might look at her oddly, but they left her alone, for which she was greatly relieved. While she didn't want to lie in the face of their obvious concern, she didn't want to explain why she wasn't all right either.

It took the better part of an hour to reduce her pace to a casual stroll.

A strange sound interrupted her aimless meandering. It was out of place yet somehow familiar. She looked around to get her bearings and heard the sound again from an alcove to her right.

"Meow."

Turning, she grinned as she saw a large orange cat sitting serenely in the middle of the floor. "Hello, Cat," she murmured, crouching down, offering a hand to be vetted.

After a cursory sniff, the cat leapt into her arms. Scratching the animal behind the ears, Rosemary said, "Don't tell me... you're a friend of Beverly's, too." She sighed. "Well, at least you don't care whether I remember you or not." Her fingers found a collar, and following it, turned up a tag. "Spot? What kind of name is that for a cat?"

Disdaining the rhetorical question, Spot merely settled down in her arms and began to purr.

"You're quite right; I'm hardly one to judge another creature's name. What do names mean anyway? Care to keep me company for awhile?" Spot purred louder. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. It will be nice to have someone other than myself to talk to. Maybe we'll run across someone who knows where you belong."

Occasionally Spot chose to walk, but primarily, the feline preferred to be carried as though the treatment was not special but habitual.

The pair roamed with no planned path, occasionally lapping a deck twice, now and then taking a turbolift past several decks to one that simply caught their fancy. An unusual dialogue ran between the two as the cat 'responded' to Rosemary's idle conversation with varying meowls, purrs and grumbles. They met few people but never quite seemed to find the right opportunity to inquire as to where Spot should be.

Some time later, the animal raised its head, ears twitching.

"What is it, Spot? Is there a mouse in the house?" Rosemary grinned. "Somehow, I don't think Jean-Luc would be happy about that prospect. Then again, how would he feel knowing you've been running around unattended?"

Spot sprang from her arms to land nimbly on the floor, went to the nearest door and began meowing loudly as though demanding admittance.

Checking the name on the door, Rosemary smiled - Lt. Commander Data. She liked him. He was sweet and never made her feel that she had messed up her life and taken everyone else's along with it. "Do you belong with him, Spot? Or does he have a fish tank?"

The cat ignored her, of course, simply meowing again. This time, the door opened.

"Hello, Rosemary," Data said politely as Spot meandered in. "May I help you in some way?"

"No, Spot and I found each other while we were both out walking. We spent some time together then he... uh, she..." Stammering to a halt, she felt a trifle silly for worrying about the gender of a cat.

Noticing her hesitation, Data supplied helpfully, "Spot is a female."

Rosemary gave him a graceful nod of appreciation. "Thank you. I didn't quite feel that we were acquainted well enough to check. Anyway, she stopped here. Is she yours?"

"Yes. Despite numerous efforts, I have been unable to determine a way to keep her confined to my quarters." Spot, irked by the fact that everyone was still standing in the doorway, came back to rub against Data's leg.

"You're up late," Rosemary observed, gesturing to his uniform.

"I do not require sleep." Her inquiringly raised eyebrow made him continue, "I am an android."

"Ah, yes, an android with warm skin, I remember now. Lucky you."

The last was muttered under her breath, but of course, Data heard it. "Why do you consider me to be lucky?"

"Because machines don't have nightmares."

"While I do not have nightmares per se, I do have a dream program that has elicited some very interesting responses."

"It's not the same," she countered. "You control your dreams. They don't scare you."

"I do not have emotions. I cannot feel fear." It was a fact that his human friends continually forgot, and despite repeated attempts, he had been unable to formulate a clear reason why. He never understood that they saw him as a person, not a machine.

"I wish I could say that."

Data was puzzled by her statement. "I do not understand your difficulty. The words are quite simple -"

"No, I meant that I wish I could say it and have it be true."

"Have you had a frightening dream, Rosemary?"

"I have enough counselors, thank you," she replied stiffly, confused by the fact that she had revealed as much already.

"I cannot claim to be a proper substitute for Counselor McKenna, however, Dr. Crusher has told me that listening is a trait of a good friend. I would be most willing to listen to anything you have to say." He issued a silent offer for her to enter his quarters.

"Yes, _Beverly_ was such a _good_ friend to everybody." Despite her sarcasm, she accepted the invitation. It wasn't her preferred topic of conversation, but it was better than wandering the halls and talking to herself or to a cat.

Spot jumped up onto the couch and waited for their guest to sit down before settling into her lap. Stroking the cat absently, Rosemary continued, "That's why everybody's been so nice to me - because of Beverly. They all want Beverly to come back."

"I believe your theory is only partially correct," Data said as he took a seat opposite her. "You are a person in distress. That is why we wish to help you. It has been eight days, fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes since I observed anyone correcting themselves in regards to your name."

She smiled slightly as his gentle acceptance warmed her and gave her a small opportunity to relax. Resting her elbow on the back of the couch, she began twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Why do you want to help me, Data? You said you don't have feelings. Do you miss Beverly?"

It was not something Data had thought about before. "As you are here, your presence is not absent. However, the input I receive from you is different from that of Dr. Crusher."

"Input?" It didn't sound very friendly to Rosemary.

"My neural pathways become accustomed to various sensory patterns specific to every individual. Vocal tone, inflection, vocabulary, sentence structure, physical distance and contact, posture, gestures, body temperature, respiration, bodily scents -"

"Okay, Data, I get it," she said, cutting into his litany before it could become too specific. "So you do miss Beverly."

"Yes, but I have found a new friend in you." Data cocked his head. As was his habit, he had been using a concurrent subroutine to review their conversation and a point caught his attention. "It is late, Rosemary, and you should be in your sleep cycle during this time. Did you have one of the nightmares that you spoke of earlier?"

Agitation twisted the hair around her finger tighter. "What makes you think it was a nightmare? Maybe I just don't like sleeping."

"As humans require sleep, I do not understand how it can be possible to either like or dislike the activity. Also, the probability is very low that you would have mentioned nightmares in our previous discussion if one had not disturbed your sleep."

She knew he wasn't going to let it go, and part of her was grateful for his persistence. It was different from Judith's and somehow easier to take. "Nightmare seems like such a tame term for the dark, ugly things I see in my dreams."

"Are dreams not a product of a person's subconscious?" Data asked.

Rosemary made a face. "That's what Judith says. That's what scares me. What's inside my head to make me dream those things? About those people?" Spot protested when her grip tightened, and she had to make a conscious effort to calm down.

"Do you recall your dreams?"

She nodded. "Data," her voice was barely a whisper, "did Beverly ever... hurt people? I mean, she's a doctor, right? She's supposed to help people, but did she ever hurt anyone?"

"Dr. Crusher did lose patients who were too ill or too severely injured to survive, but I have never known her to deliberately inflict pain."

The certainty of his answer was what she had anticipated but not what she wanted to hear. "So it must have been me."

"What must have been you?"

"The dreams my subconscious likes to perform so much. If Beverly never hurt anyone, it must have been me who did those horrible things. But why? I don't feel as though I could do those things, but if they're in my dreams, I must have done them. Why would I hurt people? And why hurt people I didn't even know until a few weeks ago? What kind of monster am I?"

"I do not believe that you are a monster, Rosemary," Data offered. "I have seen you interact with many people on the Enterprise. You have in no way acted viciously or violently. I do not believe you would willfully inflict pain."

"Then where are these dreams coming from?" She bit her lip in frustration.

"Will you tell me about your dreams?"

She raised frightened eyes to his. "What, so I can scare you, too?"

"I have no emotions. I cannot be scared."

She smiled wryly. "Yes, you said that. I forgot."

He reached out and patted her hand, a gesture he had seen Counselor Troi use many times. "I often have to remind Dr. Crusher as well. Can you tell me now?"

Rosemary swallowed hard. Maybe if Data couldn't feel fear then he wouldn't be repulsed by her when he found out what happened in her dreams. The images were vivid in her mind, but she wasn't sure she wanted to put words to them. "I'll try. I'm in Sickbay..."

_The room was bright white, so glaring that it hurt her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the light. A noise, she wasn't sure what, made her open them again._

_She was standing next to a biobed. The figure on it slowly came into focus... Geordi La Forge. She could see the restraining field glowing around him, keeping him still. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but the readouts seemed to indicate there was nothing wrong with him._

_As though she were detached from herself, she watched her hand reach out with some sort of instrument. Something about what she was doing was frightening Geordi. She could feel his fear. It was an odd sensation, being able to feel him and not herself._

_The instrument emitted a thin blue beam near his temple... and Geordi shrieked in agony..._

Rosemary's body jerked at the memory of Geordi's screams and her eyes filled with tears. "Geordi has been so nice to me. In Sickbay the other day, he trusted me to help his friend even though I wasn't thinking about what I was doing. Why would I hurt Geordi?" she broke off, sobbing.

"Do not cry, Rosemary. You have not hurt anyone. Although it may have some meaning, it was only a dream."

"It wasn't a dream!" she wailed. "I could feel it happening! I hurt Geordi for no reason!"

"No, Rosemary. Geordi is my best friend, I would know if such an incident had occurred. I can assure you it has not. Neither you nor Dr. Crusher has ever purposely caused Geordi pain." An expression close to satisfaction appeared on his face as he thought of another point. "Rosemary, until the day you woke up in Sickbay, you did not technically exist, and you have very clear memories of every day since, is that not correct?"

The phrase 'did not technically exist' didn't sit well with her, but she nodded in agreement with the rest of his statement.

"Then when do you think this incident could have occurred?"

That brought her up short. "I... I don't know. But why would I dream something so horrible... something that felt so real?"

"Several theories have been developed regarding what might have happened to Dr. Crusher. Perhaps you should discuss them with Counselor McKenna."

"No! I don't want to go through all this again. I'm enough of a freak as it is; I don't want her looking at me like I'm some sort of demon, too." Spot yowled as she was once again squeezed too tightly, and Rosemary pushed the animal off her lap to the floor. "I'm sorry, Spot. All I do is cause pain."

Unperturbed by the abrupt dismissal, Spot immediately returned to her prior resting place, nudging her head under Rosemary's hand to be petted.

Data watched the encounter with great interest. He quickly tabulated the number of times the cat had avoided contact with other crewmembers who had come to his quarters with the express intention of caring for his pet. Now, however, Rosemary's rejection appeared to make Spot eager for her attention. Correlating this new information with other studies of the animal's behavior, he hypothesized that Spot did not like being ignored.

Rosemary smiled at Spot's antics, gently lifting the cat to rub her cheek on the soft, orange fur. "I'm sorry, Spot," she said again. "I don't understand why you all keep coming back when I can be so mean tempered."

"Perhaps," Data offered, "Spot senses your distress and wishes to help... as we all do."

"Thank you." She cleared her throat, then again, unable to dispel the dryness brought on by her overwrought emotions. "May I have something to drink?"

Given that he had little personal experience with Rosemary at this time, Data used the few seconds it took for him to cross to the replicator to instantly process all the information he had on Beverly's beverage preferences, ordered a chilled fruit juice and passed it to her.

Conditioned to the fact that Data almost exclusively used the replicator to produce food for her, Spot made a valiant effort to intercept the glass.

Rosemary managed to drink most of it despite Spot's curious pawing of her hand. A small smile tugged at her mouth at the cat's insistence. Pouring the last drops into her palm, her smile broadened as Spot lapped daintily at the offering.

Data was fascinated by the interaction between the woman and the feline.

Avoiding his watchful eye for a long as she could, Rosemary finally looked up. "Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I don't feel like talking anymore right now, but I don't want to be alone either."

"You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Should you wish to talk again, I will be at my console, working on several projects."

"Thank you," she murmured with a grateful nod before adding, "You know, Data, I think you have more feelings than you give yourself credit for." She laughed softly at his head cocked in puzzlement then turned her attention back to Spot.

In less than fifteen minutes, Data looked over to see that Rosemary had fallen asleep on the couch, turned on her side with an orange ball of fur curled against her stomach.

Satisfied that she was sleeping peacefully, Data began a new task. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he completed an incident report and sent it to Judith along with an audio recording of his conversation with Rosemary from his memory banks.

Meanwhile, he ran an observational subroutine, tracking Rosemary's condition as she slept. Traces of tears remained on her cheeks, but her sleep appeared to be restful.

His concurrent statistical routine computed the slim likelihood that Doctor Crusher would have come to him had she not been suffering from amnesia. Geordi frequently sought him out for his opinion on various matters, as did Worf, though to a lesser degree. His own pattern was to determine the individual most likely to be able to assist him on a given subject. The four most senior officers, however, tended to keep their concerns within their own small circle.

In his efforts to become more human, Data had attempted to define the parameters by which friendships were formed. Similarities in gender, age and species, as demonstrated by Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi, were the primary basis as two persons would be roughly equal in life experiences. However, despite being of the same gender and approximate age, Commander Riker and Lt. Worf were considered by many to be total opposites and yet had formed a strong bond. Data counted his own friendship with Geordi as another exception to the rule.

Mentor/student associations had also emerged as a recurring theme in his study, as demonstrated by both the First Officer and the Captain with young Wesley Crusher. In such cases, the difference in age and experience formed the basis for the relationships although they continued to follow the pattern of being the same gender.

Close, personal friendships that crossed gender lines were far more rare. He considered himself fortunate to have two excellent and diverse examples to study. Riker and Troi's current status as friends had evolved from a romantic past. Picard and Crusher, conversely, had begun as friends before moving into what most of the crew believed to be a closely guarded love affair.

None of these guidelines, however, described his relationship with Rosemary. Having spent too little time with her to form what he defined as a friendship, he endeavored to determine why she had chosen to discuss her dreams with him.

There was an 86.528% probability that it was the mere convenience of his being there at that particular time. To a much lesser extent - 12.810% - was the probability that, despite her claim to have forgotten their previous discussion, she subconsciously recalled his lack of emotions and considered him less likely to react negatively to her recitation.

It was the more personal side to tonight's events that fascinated Data. As a rule, he was willing to accept no as an answer, so he was unclear as to why, in this instance, he had continued to question Rosemary. It was unusual for him to experience such a strong... compulsion.

x~x

Rosemary's embarrassment at having slept the rest of the night in Data's cabin was quickly overridden by outrage when he informed her that he had sent a recording of their conversation to Judith. She stormed out, and it took Judith the better part of the morning to get her to listen as she explained that Data had meant it as a favor so she wouldn't have to repeat the story in a counseling session.

She was ashamed of herself for allowing her short temper and for misjudging Data. Her apology was readily accepted, as was Data's offer to stop by any time she needed someone to talk to at night.

After that, she began to make almost nightly treks to Data's quarters when the dreams drove her from her bed. The emotions unleashed in those unofficial therapy sessions would leave her drained, and more often than not, she fell into an exhausted sleep that lasted until morning.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

Judith unobtrusively rubbed her forehead. Rosemary hadn't stopped moving since she arrived, and the counselor was growing both dizzy and exhausted from watching her patient pace the length of the office. She knew better than to suggest sitting down as that tended to increase Rosemary's agitation. Judith also suspected that Rosemary felt somehow safer as a moving target.

"Do we have to do this?"

It wasn't quite a whine, but it was enough to grate on Rosemary's nerves, and it didn't help that the near whine had come from her.

She understood the premise behind the upcoming session; not that it lessened her dread in any way. Over the last four days, the dreams had eased to point where she could discuss them in some detail with Judith, but the idea of actually talking to Geordi about them terrified her almost as much as the dreams themselves.

"We don't have to do it if you don't want to..." Judith replied.

Rosemary rolled her eyes, knowing she wasn't going to be allowed to wriggle out of it that easily.

Confirming her suspicions, the counselor continued, "...but I thought Geordi was your friend?"

"He is... was... I don't know. I don't know how he can want to be my friend after the way I hurt him."

"It's not a problem because you didn't hurt me."

Rosemary whirled around, paling as she came face to face with the subject of her nightmares. She hadn't heard Geordi come in, and the sound of his voice behind her frightened her badly. Despite her earlier dread, she was unprepared for the guilt that rolled over her like an ocean wave. Instinctively she backed away, stumbling against the coffee table as she went. His reflexive attempt to keep her from falling only seemed to upset her more.

Geordi's VISOR tracked the rapid physiological changes occurring in Rosemary. The heat registers vanished from her face then returned brighter than before as adrenaline rushed through her. He saw her breathing grow shallow and her body begin to shake.

Panic engulfed her like a heavy blanket. She couldn't hear herself scream, couldn't hear anything over the buzzing in her ears. She didn't know when Picard entered the room, having heard her screams out in the corridor. Slowly, the feeling of strong arms enfolding her edged through the darkness surrounding her. A deep voice spoke in her ear although she couldn't make out the words. The prickle of the transporter didn't register at all through the emotional overload that held her in its grip.

x~x

Judith had never worked with someone when she couldn't see their eyes, but Geordi's stance was evidence enough to show how upset he was at what had happened a moment ago. He stood motionless, still looking at the spot where the pair had vanished in the transporter beam.

He started slightly when Judith touched his shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare her... I heard her getting upset about hurting me. I didn't want her to do that because she hasn't hurt me and..."

"It's all right, Geordi. She had worked herself up pretty well before you got here. It was just unfortunate that she didn't hear you come in." Moving to her usual chair, she gestured to the one opposite hers. "Why don't we sit down?"

He finally turned to face her. "You want to continue this session? Without Rosemary?"

"I think we need to. The strength of her reaction bothered you, didn't it?

Geordi sank into the chair with a groan. "Frankly, I don't understand any of it!"

"What do you mean?"

"Why she is dreaming about me in the first place? I mean, other people were... are closer to Dr. Crusher than I am... was..." He groaned again. "I don't even know which tense to use!"

Judith leaned forward with a consoling half smile. "Let's keep it simple and stick with the present tense."

"So why me? Why not Troi or the Captain? Why isn't it Wesley? He's her son, her closest relative."

"Those close friendships are Beverly's, and as far as Rosemary is concerned she has no son." She watched as he considered then slowly accepted the explanation. "Although they may in some way be based on Beverly's memories, right now, these are Rosemary's dreams. You were the first friend Rosemary made aboard the Enterprise. That and the type of injury Lt. Zeile suffered are probably what turned the incident in Sickbay into the catalyst that brought the dreams to the surface."

Geordi frowned in confusion once more. "Zeile's injury? Why would that make a difference?"

"It went across his face, very near his eye." When Geordi still looked puzzled, she tried another tack. "When you go to Sickbay, what is it usually for?"

He reached up and lightly touched the apparatus on his face. "My VISOR... it hurts sometimes. Dr. Crusher is really great about it though."

"In what way?"

"Well, I can either live with the pain or treat it one of two ways - deaden the nerve endings around the receptors or take medication that would do essentially the same thing. Problem is, both of those options affect the way my VISOR works. Most of the doctors who treated me in the past kept pushing for me to choose one. The first time Dr. Crusher examined me, she mentioned both treatments, I said no, and she dropped the whole thing. She keeps me updated on all the latest advances, but it's always my decision."

A wistful grin curled his mouth, and Judith couldn't imagine, given recent events, what he was thinking to elicit such a response.

"What is it?"

"I was just remembering an article about a new technology that Dr. Crusher sent me the year after she came back from Starfleet Medical. The researcher's hypothesis was completely ludicrous and his planned implementation was terrible, but I kept reading because I knew there had to be something important in it for her to pass it along. Finally, at the bottom was a note from her asking why I had read something so ridiculous. I thought it was a great joke and told her so. She laughed, but then thanked me for trusting her judgment enough to read the whole thing."

"So Beverly is able to cross the boundaries of rank to play an occasional practical joke?"

"Yeah. Rosemary doesn't play pranks, but she's almost always got a comment on whatever's going on. She makes up the most outlandish 'conversations' for other people in Ten Forward. We have a lot of fun."

Judith murmured softly, "Do I still have to tell you why Rosemary would be dreaming about you?"

x~x

Rosemary couldn't have said how much time had passed before she realized how quiet everything had become. The buzzing was gone, her heart had stopped pounding and her lungs now took in a normal amount of air with each slower breath.

The feeling of upholstery fabric against her face drew her attention. She cautiously opened her eyes, saw stars racing past and squeezed them closed again as the unexpected visual motion played havoc with her stomach.

"Rosemary?"

The voice close beside her was low and calming, as was the hand that gently brushed a lock of hair off her damp forehead.

Turning, eyes still closed, she leaned into the palm against her cheek. "Jean-Luc?" she rasped. Her throat was scratchy, her head hurt and she was so tired.

"Rosemary, can you open your eyes?"

Her lashes fluttered, feeling terribly heavy, and it took her a moment to focus on his face where he knelt next to her chair. The concern she saw in his hazel eyes confused her.

_'What happened?'_

The moment the thought registered, the incident with Geordi came flooding back. She sat bolt upright with a cry, first from the memory and then from the wave of dizziness that swept over her at the sudden movement.

Jean-Luc steadied her with a hand on her shoulder as he pressed a cold glass into her trembling fingers. "Here, drink some of this," he said, guiding her hand up.

The water soothed her parched throat and helped to wash away some of the terror she felt. She drained the glass in a few long swallows then looked around, belatedly realizing they were no longer in Judith's office but in her own quarters. "How did I get here?"

"You were screaming..." A shadow crossed his face as the piercing sound echoed once again in his mind. "I was in the corridor, and when I came in -"

"- I was making a spectacle of myself in front of Geordi and Judith," she finished disgustedly, turning back to the window in embarrassment. That feeling sharpened when she thought of something else. "Oh, and I got to do a traveling show when we came here, right?"

"Don't worry about that," he soothed, "I had the transporter bring us here."

"The transporter? That thing that breaks you up into tiny bits in one place and then puts you back together somewhere else?" She was pleased by his half smile at her description. "That's going to be quite a handy thing to have around if I'm going to keep putting on these lovely displays." She saw his questioning look and explained, "Judith used it the other day when I debuted my less than crowd pleasing act in Sickbay. I wonder where my next performance will be?" She slumped back in the chair with a soft moan, pressing her fingertips to her temple.

"Are you all right?"

"Just tired. You may not know it, but hysteria can be very draining." He winced at her flippant tone, and she regretted, not for the first time, her habit of speaking first and thinking after. "May I have some more water, please?" she asked, holding out her glass.

Taking it, he moved to the replicator. She closed her eyes against the consternation she had seen in his face. _'Don't be angry, Jean-Luc,'_ she pleaded silently. _'If I don't make light of this whole situation I will go crazy.'_

The replicator hummed in response to the Captain's request, and she listened to Jean-Luc's footsteps as he crossed the room back to where she sat. Murmuring her thanks when he nudged her hand with the glass, she took it without opening her eyes. Tilting her head back against the chair, she rested the container against her neck, relishing the cold against her overly warm skin. Condensation dripped off the bottom, running in cooling trails down her throat to disappear into the V of her blouse.

Jean-Luc smothered a groan as her inadvertently enticing action dampened the olive material, making it cling to the curve of her breasts. The last half-hour had put his emotions through more twists and turns than he would ever have believed he could withstand in so short a time. The mere memory of the scream that had come from Judith McKenna's office made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Recognizing the voice as Rosemary's, he had charged in - never stopping to think that he might be barging in where his presence could do more damage than good. He barely had time to register the stricken looks on the faces of the room's other occupants before Rosemary flung herself blindly into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. The same instinct that made him wrap one arm protectively around her also told him to stroke her hair soothingly and murmur reassurances in her ear. As Rosemary's hysteria eased slightly, he had looked to the counselor for an explanation, trying to keep his expression inquiring rather than accusing. Her succinct response didn't allay his concerns completely, but it was enough for him to agree with her suggestion of using the transporter to take Rosemary back to her quarters.

Re-materializing, Rosemary had stumbled to the chair by the window, curling into a tight ball. Picard, knowing the shudders that wracked her body were due to shock rather than cold, had retrieved the quilt from the bedroom and tucked it around her. It was the one article of Beverly's that she had accepted, subconsciously drawing comfort from the grandmother she didn't remember.

Picard was used to being the patient and having Beverly take care of him. This switch in roles was bewildering to say the very least. He had felt better when her shaking stopped, and she turned trustingly at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand.

When she calmed down - and remembered what had happened - he knew the dark humor was a defense, and it disturbed him. He didn't like knowing she was that upset.

Then, her unwitting actions with the water glass stirred responses in him than neither one of them needed to deal with right now.

Hearing Picard shift restlessly in the seat he had taken opposite her, Rosemary peeked at him through her lashes. _'I've put him through hell,'_ she thought, _'and I have no idea why he puts up with any of it!'_

Sitting up, she took a sip of water before speaking. "Would you do me a favor, Jean-Luc?"

"Of course I will," he replied instantly.

"Good, then some day - when I'm not in a blind panic - could you have me transported some place so that I can know how it feels? I've been zapped halfway across the ship twice, and I was too incoherent both times to know what was going on."

He smiled in spite of himself at the simple yet unusual request. "We could have you transported from your quarters to mine for breakfast one morning. How does that sound?"

She beamed at him. "Perfect. And Jean-Luc... thank you for taking care of me."

"I told you before, you are my friend, and we all care about you."

"That shouldn't keep me from saying thank you. In fact, I should say it more often for that very reason." She relaxed back in the chair once more, pulling up the quilt.

"You spend a lot of time in that chair, don't you?"

Surprised at the change of subject, she looked up to find that his despite his serious expression, his eyes were twinkling as though he had discovered a magical secret. "Yes, I like to watch the stars. How did you know?"

"Because when we beamed in, you went straight to it without ever opening your eyes - as though you knew you would be safe there."

She had never put the feeling into words, but it made sense. "This was the first place where I felt secure. It's my territory, and even though the people who gave it to me could take it away again, I'm willing to fight for it." She saw the knowing smile he tried to hide and demanded defensively, "What's wrong with that?"

"Not a thing. Felisa would be pleased to see the Howard spirit thriving - even in someone who doesn't know she's a Howard."

"You said something once before about a 'Howard temper'. Who is Felisa and what does she have to do with me?"

The chirp of his comm badge interrupted before he could reply.

"La Forge to Picard."

"Picard here."

"How is Rosemary, sir?"

It wasn't the captain who answered his question. "I'm okay, Geordi. I'm sorry I reacted so badly..."

"No apologies," he cut in, "at least not from you. It was my fault - I never meant to scare you."

"You couldn't know I was going to do... that. I didn't know I was going to do it!" Her laugh was small, and she was surprised she was able to laugh at all.

"I'm still with Counselor McKenna," Geordi said. "May we... may we come see you, Rosemary?"

The uncertainty in his voice stirred her guilt all over again, knowing that her outburst had upset him, and now he was afraid of upsetting her again. Unconsciously, she reached out to Jean-Luc and was instantly reassured when his warm hand grasped her trembling fingers. Taking a steadying breath, she said, "Yes, please come, Geordi."

x~x

Rosemary's reaction to Geordi was just as strong the second time, but they were prepared for it. Judith ended the session before a full-blown panic attack could take place.

Switching partners, Judith stayed with Rosemary while the Captain and Geordi left together, and the two men eventually ended up in an unofficial session with Deanna in her office.

x~x

Judith sat slumped over her desk, elbows resting on the smooth wood grained surface, her face in her hands, a position she had taken upon returning to her office... and one that hadn't changed with the recent arrival.

Deanna watched her carefully. Every ounce of stress she had incurred over the last few hours showed clearly in the knotted muscles across her neck and shoulders. The emotionally charged scenes between Rosemary and Geordi - plus adding the captain to the mix - were textbook trials that would make or break a counselor...

...And Judith McKenna had already established herself as an excellent counselor.

"Ready for your turn to be counseled?"

"No."

Deanna was undeterred by the muffled answer. She would have said the same thing if their positions were reversed and suspected that Judith wouldn't accept the response any more than she was about to.

"Good, I like a person with an open mind," she said, taking the chair facing the desk. "I'll help you out a bit... I just spent the last two hours with the captain and Geordi."

Judith peeked through her fingers then slid her hands down to cup her chin in her palms. "Let me guess... Geordi is depressed, but you feel that he'll be able to work through it. The captain, on the other hand, is frustrated, frightened and closed off, making you mildly concerned." She sat back in the chair with a sigh. "Beats me why the man hasn't already exploded - I mean literally blown up in a million tiny pieces."

"Sheer will, most likely," Deanna said, having wondered the same thing herself. "But I'm here to talk about you."

Judith knew she was being evaluated and could only hope that it was her supervisor and not Beverly's friend doing the assessment. "You think I made a mistake in having Rosemary meet face to face with Geordi so soon."

Dark curls danced on her shoulders as Deanna shook her head at the veiled challenge. "On the contrary, it was a very good move. What I want to know is how you are dealing with it."

A groan punctuated Judith's departure from her chair. Deanna waited patiently for the younger woman to marshal her thoughts. Judith wandered over to the viewport, staring at the stars flowing past. Turning to face the room, she gathered her hair on top of her head and leaned back to rest her upper body and head against the cold glass.

"Overall, I think I'm doing okay," she said finally.

"Where specifically do you think you're not doing okay?"

"Geordi asked me a question, and I gave him an answer but..." Her words faded as her uncertainty grew.

"But?" Deanna prompted.

"I think it was only half the answer."

"What was the question?"

"Why did Rosemary begin with dreams of Geordi?"

Deanna was surprised - at herself. It was a question she should have asked. "What did you tell him?"

"I said that while he was probably closer to Beverly than he realized, mostly it was because he was the first friend Rosemary made on the ship and that the incident in Sickbay with Zeile provided the catalyst."

"Sounds reasonable enough. Why is it incomplete?

Moving away from the window, Judith let her hair drop as her hands began to massage warmth back into her chilled neck. It was a delaying tactic as she tried to capture the idea that was flitting at the edge of her mind. "Because Geordi was also wondering why memories of people who were closer to Beverly didn't come through first. Like you or the captain. And especially her son."

Deanna opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again when she realized she didn't have one.

She didn't need one because Judith was talking quietly to herself, coming up with a few of her own.

"Maybe the memories about the people closest to Beverly are even more painful than what Rosemary is remembering about Geordi." That single thought was enough to make her shudder. "That would definitely include her son. But if the original hypothesis about the Egelloc using Beverly's medical memories is correct, would Wesley be included in those since he was probably never a patient of hers?"

She looked up suddenly, remembering the presence of the other counselor.

People had often told her that it was extremely disconcerting to see a professional therapist talking to herself, but she continued to do it. Sometimes it helped her sort things out when she heard them aloud, and she also happened to believe that it was good for a therapist to be just a hair off center... although perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to appear that way in front of one's boss.

Deanna smiled encouragingly. "Go on, you're doing just fine."

Judith's face scrunched as she recalled where she had heard those same words recently. "That's what Geordi said to Rosemary in Sickbay - and I think I have a small idea of the feeling that made her panic." She quickly forestalled the expected protest. "Okay, our situations are polar opposites, but you know that it can be unnerving when people trust you more than you trust yourself."

"I'll accept your reasoning as to why Rosemary isn't remembering Wesley, but I wonder what we're going to do when she has nightmares about Data? She's begun to rely on him so heavily. Who will she talk to when he's the subject?"

"I don't think Data is going to be a problem. I know he has been Beverly's patient, but he doesn't feel pain or fear. She could take a laser scalpel to him, and he wouldn't flinch."

"But he does have a well defined survival program," Deanna countered. "He would resist any attempt to damage him."

With growing confidence in her theory, Judith leaned forward eagerly. "The Egelloc weren't interested in survival. They were testing pain. Remember? Her own injuries had already begun to heal when she was found. They started with how she handled pain herself then in probing her memories, they discovered she was a doctor and saw how she reacted when a patient was in pain. That's when they switched from studying how she dealt with her own pain to her psychological reactions when she inflicted pain."

Deanna nodded in grim agreement. "I guess the question now is, if they had Beverly working on Geordi's eyes, what do you suppose they conjured up for her to do to the rest of us?"

x~x

It was more than a week before Rosemary became completely at ease with Geordi once more. She pushed herself to see him outside their sessions - at the poker game, in Ten Forward. As they returned to their previous friendship, her dreams faded at about the same pace.

-tbc-


	12. Chapter 12

Rosemary arrived early for breakfast one morning, and Jean-Luc told her to make herself comfortable while he finished dressing.

Emerging from the bedroom a few minutes later, he was puzzled to see her standing in front of the bookshelves, holding a framed picture. His breath caught when he saw that it was one of him and Wesley, taken just before the young man had left to begin his studies as a Traveler.

"Who is this, Jean-Luc?" she asked, a slight huskiness slurring her words.

Reining in his excitement at this potential breakthrough, he replied evenly, "He's your son, Wesley. Remember? We talked about him that day on the holodeck."

She didn't acknowledge his answer as she traced a fingertip over the picture. "I keep seeing... his eyes... in a little boy's face. They're so terribly sad. He wants me to make everything right again... but I can't... I don't know how." She turned her own imploring blue eyes to look at him. "What happened, Jean-Luc? What broke his heart like that?"

_'Dear God, does she have to relive this, too?'_ he railed silently. _'Why do I have to break her heart again so that she can mourn Jack all over again?'_ That day, all those years ago, she had understood the grim news he bore the moment she saw him on her doorstep. This time, she wouldn't have even that brief instant of preparation.

Moving to her side, Picard reached out, curling his fingers around hers where they gripped the antique cherrywood frame so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"His father... your husband... died," he said, his breathing ragged as he braced himself for her reaction.

"Jack." The word was a moan deep in her throat. "I see him, too. He's so pale... and cold... lying on a table." She swayed slightly, and he clutched her hand to steady her. "Beverly's husband, her son. It hurts so much." She jerked her hand away as if his touch burned her, the picture falling to the floor with a crash. "Why do I have to hurt like this?"

She was gone before he could stop her.

Kneeling to pick up the frame, Jean-Luc tried to be grateful that apparently none of the broken pieces had cut her feet.

x~x

When Rosemary failed to keep her regularly scheduled appointment and refused to give a reason why, Judith had contacted the Captain on the chance that something had happened during breakfast.

Even as he entered her office, she couldn't get over her surprise that he had volunteered to come here rather than meet in his Ready Room. The gesture spoke volumes about what he felt for Beverly Crusher - and, she suspected, for Rosemary.

He swiftly filled her in on the scene in his quarters. The additional explanation of the circumstances surrounding Jack Crusher's death gave Judith some much needed insight as to why Jean-Luc Picard had never acted on his feelings for his chief medical officer.

"I know you've read Dr. Crusher's file, but I wanted to be sure you were aware that it was the memory of seeing her husband's body in the morgue that the Ulian, Jev, used against her."

"That would give the Egelloc a lot to work with," Judith said musingly, running a hand through her shoulder length blonde hair.

The gesture startled Picard. It was a habit he associated almost exclusively with Beverly, but in that instant, he realized he had never seen Rosemary do it. He felt guilty for not even missing one of the best clues to gauging her moods. His preoccupation made for a delayed processing of Judith's next words.

"Did they use the original memory or the already distorted one? Then again, they may not have used either one and it is simply the recovery process that is bringing up that tragedy once more."

"Do you think it's time for Wesley to come here? That is the way you helped her deal with the dreams about Geordi, having them meet face to face."

She paused to consider the suggestion. Wesley Crusher's presence aboard the Enterprise would alter the dynamics of the entire situation. As Beverly's only living relative, he would have questions - even though they might remain unspoken - as to why she wasn't recovering faster. Those questions would be on top of the irrational ones that asked why they, her closest friends, had allowed this to happen in the first place.

All of which would surface as they helped him deal with the fact that the one constant in his life was gone. The mother he had known all his life no longer knew him.

Without having met the young man, Judith had formed a fair picture of him. _'If they thought dealing with Rosemary was difficult, wait until they take on Wesley.'_

She admired Picard's willingness to face difficult situations head on. It was one more item to add to the list of admirable things she had learned about the captain.

The relationship between the Captain and the Doctor was a twist she hadn't foreseen when she took on the case. She had been intimidated enough by the prospect of treating the Enterprise's chief medical officer - and one of the most respected doctors in all of Starfleet. Learning that Captain Jean-Luc Picard had been a close, personal friend of her patient for more than twenty-five years had put a subtly different pressure on the whole situation.

Fortunately, her fears had proved groundless when it became apparent that all Picard wanted was for Beverly to be cured, and he was willing to work with almost anyone to accomplish it.

Of course, he also happened to be in love with her patient. It hadn't been difficult to recognize, although ship's gossip had alerted her to the fact well before Beverly had been rescued. The grapevine also said she was in love with him... but what about Rosemary? How did this new version of the doctor feel about the captain? That was the part Judith was still pondering.

This was her third assignment to a starship, and while she intended for her next post to be as a full ship's counselor, she had never imagined she would be so closely involved with the Enterprise's senior staff at this point. She knew they were a fairly tight-knit group, given that they had served together for eight years, but she hadn't anticipated being accepted into their circle so easily.

Stories of their adventures bordered on legendary and were remarkably unembellished, the truth being more than adequately colorful and thrilling.

Judith had seen actual families who couldn't pull together during an emotional crisis and yet these people, bound solely by friendship behaved as though their lives had been entwined for generations rather than the few years they shared aboard the Enterprise.

"Yes, sir," she said at last, "I think you'd better call him. If there is a pattern forming, the nightmares should start within the next day or two."

x~x

Four Days Later

Picard's solemn visage revealed none of his impatience as he stood in the transporter room. His pleasure at seeing Wesley again was dimmed by the reason for this visit.

The beam faded to reveal not the youngster who had left a year ago, but the man his proud father had so often predicted he would become. The gawky, thin child had filled out and matured into a fine blend of both his parents. _'He has a hint of his mother's hair and all of his father's irrepressible grin,'_ Picard thought, extending his hand as Wesley stepped down from the transporter padd.

"It's good to see you, Wesley."

"You, too, Captain, although it's not quite the homecoming I had imagined."

Picard nodded his thanks to the transporter chief as they exited the small room. "I'm glad you still see it as coming home, despite the circumstances."

"I couldn't feel any other way, sir." His steps slowed then stopped. He turned to face Picard. "How is Mom? Can I see her? I don't care if she doesn't know me, I want to see her."

The pleading in his brown eyes was almost more than Picard could bear. "You do care if she recognizes you, Wesley. We all do, and it hurts like hell when she doesn't." Placing a paternal hand on the young man's shoulder, Picard started him moving down the corridor again. "Let's get you settled before we go into details."

x~x

Within twenty minutes, they were in the guest quarters assigned to Wesley and had been joined by Will and Deanna.

"She hasn't spoken to anyone but Data since the memories about you and your father began surfacing," Deanna said. "Data says she's not having nightmares as she did with Geordi, but given the way things went then... well, right now, her agitation is more from anticipation than from fact."

"I want to see her." Wesley was satisfied that he sounded firm but not demanding.

"I know you do, but it has to be her choice. She has to tell us what she is ready to deal with. This is going to be difficult for both of you, but neither of you is alone."

It didn't matter how true her words were, at that moment he felt very much alone.

They answered more of his questions, detailing Rosemary's day to day activities, comparing her actions and traits to the ones he knew of his mother's.

"She goes barefoot practically everywhere," Will offered with an envious grin.

"Actually, that's more Mom than you think," Wesley informed them. "She hates wearing shoes, always said that was the worst part of being on a starship. On a planet, you can relax once in a while. On a starship, even off duty, she's never allowed to forget she is in Starfleet. But that's just what she said for general publication. The truth is, after the catastrophe on Arveda, she - along with everybody else - had to wear shoes and tight fitting clothes at all times to avoid the disease carrying insects. That's where she developed her 'loathing for clothing'. Her pseudo medical term for it is 'mutant strain of claustrophobia'. I think she half seriously considered resigning her commission when Starfleet changed to the jumpsuits a few years ago."

"Beverly never mentioned anything like that," Deanna murmured softly.

"She doesn't like to talk about it. She -"

Wesley straightened when the door chime sounded unexpectedly. He took a deep breath as he turned toward the door, knowing all the while how foolish it was to hope...

"Come in."

The woman who entered seemed even younger than she did in the subspace messages she had sent to keep him updated on his mother's condition. Once again he wondered -

_'Great,'_ he chided himself, _'people doubted me because I looked impossibly young, and now I'm doing it to someone else.'_

Deanna could sense his self-recrimination, but he wasn't as easy to read as he had been in the past. His life as a Traveler had changed him a great deal. _'Will it help him deal with this?'_

Wesley couldn't even muster a smile as he greeted his new guest. "Hello, Counselor McKenna, it's good to finally meet you in person."

"I'm glad to meet you, too, Wesley. Everyone's told me so much about you."

"Everyone except my mother."

_'Straight to the point. Rosemary must be more like Beverly than I thought because Wesley is just as stubborn and straight-forward as Rosemary.'_ Aloud, Judith said, "No, not your mother, but I'm looking forward to that one day."

"Then you do believe her memory will return?"

"It's already started. Granted they're widely diverse memories and not in any discernible order, but each one brings us a step closer to getting her back."

Wesley knew how his next question was going to seem, no matter how he asked it. "Why has it taken her so long to begin remembering me? I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I am her son."

"It's a difficult distinction for you, I know, but you aren't Rosemary's son. Except for the pictures she saw on her few trips to Beverly's quarters and one conversation with the Captain on the holodeck, Rosemary hasn't had a reason to think about Beverly's son. If you had been on board from the beginning, the memories might have returned sooner - but that's only speculation."

Picard frowned. "Then why was she drawn to the picture of Wesley in my quarters?"

Judith stifled what would have been a gusty sigh of irritation. _'Follow your instincts next time, counselor,'_ she scolded herself firmly. She knew she should have talked to Wesley privately so that she could give him the necessary information without being sidetracked by irrelevant details. At the moment, however, she was stuck with the situation as it was and had no choice but to answer the captain's question.

"She wasn't - she said she was looking at the picture of you, sir, and Wesley just happened to be in it. I think her concentration on you allowed the memory of Wesley to slip in. She wasn't associating the other person in the picture with Beverly so she wasn't resisting any personal connections."

"'She said'? When did you talk to Rosemary?" Deanna cut in. She had known that Judith was holding something back but was surprised to realize it was this important.

"I spent the last hour with her," Judith replied, ignoring the hurt tone in the counselor's voice as well as her own irritation at yet another detour. Turning her attention back to Wesley, she said, "Once the arrangements were made, I asked Data to tell her that you were coming so that she would have time to prepare herself. She understands that a meeting with you is the ultimate goal - when she's ready - and she had some questions that Data couldn't answer."

"What kind of questions?" Wesley asked.

"Mostly about how the encounter would be handled. She's been quizzing Data pretty intensely about you."

"I wish I'd heard that," the young man said with a half smile. "I'd like to know how Data described me. When can I see her?"

"Not until tomorrow at the earliest," Judith replied smoothly before Deanna could speak. She moved a step closer to Wesley and reached out a comforting hand. "You need time to get your bearings, and so does Rosemary. No matter how many times we've talked on subspace, being on the Enterprise makes the situation more real for you. You're going to come face to face with the woman who is supposed to be your mother, and yet she will only recognize you because of pictures she's seen. It's the same for her. She's about to confront a grown man that something somewhere deep inside her is crying out, 'This is my baby' and she won't understand it because it's Beverly's connection and not hers."

She noticed that Wesley accepted her instructions better than the three officers sitting there.

-tbc-


	13. Chapter 13

Rosemary almost wished there had been a nightmare last night. Waiting for them to come was disrupting her rest as much as an actual dream. Being awake gave her time to think - a lot of time.

So why wasn't she any more prepared for what was coming?

Tensing as the door opened, she continued to stare at the painting on the wall. There were muffled footsteps, then silence. She had stalled for two days but even as she turned slowly, her mind was screaming that she wasn't ready for this yet.

Wesley Crusher looked much as he had in the picture with Jean-Luc, but there was a touch of something else in his bearing as though he had aged more than the actual time that had elapsed since it was taken.

_'How much of that aging took place when he heard about his mother?'_

Wesley, for his part, looked at her and saw things he would never have noticed if it weren't for this situation. She wore her hair back while his mother preferred it loose. Something about her makeup was different as well, subtly more dramatic.

"Hello, Wesley," she said softly. Hope blazed in his eyes, and she hated having to douse it by adding, "No, I don't know you. I saw your picture in Jean-Luc's cabin."

Use of the Captain's first name was the tiny piece of evidence that finally convinced Wesley of the severity of the situation. His mother would never speak of Picard with such familiarity despite their long friendship. His last shred of hope that this was all a mistake burned away in a sharp pain that seared his heart.

"Glad to meet you, Rosemary," he replied, amazed that he could keep his voice level. "You look familiar to me, too."

The raised eyebrow he received in response was so very much his mother that he wanted to laugh out loud. But laughter would have quickly turned to tears as he begged her to remember him, which would only damage them both. He choked back the plea and groped for something to say. Glancing around the room, he noted, "Data's done some redecorating."

As a topic of conversation, it fell sorrowfully flat.

"How do you like being on the Enterprise?" he tried again. "Of all our postings, this is the only one that felt like home. Still does."

"I don't have a real frame of reference since I've never been anywhere else, but it's not bad, I guess..." she shrugged, "if you don't mind everybody expecting you to be someone you're not."

That did make him laugh, surprising himself and her. "I can understand some of that feeling." The eyebrow raised once again prodded him to elaborate. "I was sure they were all going to hate me for dropping out of the Academy. After all, I was supposed to follow in my father's footsteps. I believed it for a long time myself. When I figured out what I really wanted, you said... that is, my mom said... I mean..." At a loss, he stared at the familiar stranger before him. _'Deanna was right, I'm not ready for this! I'll never be ready for it!'_

"What do you remember about your mother, Wesley?"

The simple question cut through his thoughts like a knife. He had been warned that she might ask such a question, but he hadn't expected it so soon or so bluntly. Looking at her - this person who was somehow not his mother - he forgot everything he had planned to say as a flood of memories filled him.

"I remember that when you worked a late shift," he began slowly, unknowingly using the same technique the Captain had employed of talking to her as though she were still who she was supposed to be, "you always woke me up just enough to kiss me good night and tell me that you loved me, especially after Dad..." He moved toward her, but she sidestepped him, keeping the distance between. The hand he wanted to reach out to her clenched at his side at the small rejection.

Clearing his throat, he went on. "I remember the day I got lost on a school field trip, and when they found me, the whole time you were yelling at me for wandering off you hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe. You always did that, touched my hand or shoulder or hugged me to let me know that no matter what I did wrong, it could never be bad enough to make you stop loving me. That's what you said when I quit the Academy - that you didn't care what I did, you loved me."

The concept of unconditional love and acceptance was unfathomable to Rosemary. She had made friends here, but she knew, no matter how much they cared for her, that they still wanted her to be Beverly.

Wesley saw a haunting sadness come over her, but when he stepped closer, she backed away again. Their movements brought back another memory.

"For years you tried to teach me to dance and failed miserably," he said with a laugh, "teasing me about being able to build a warp coil from scratch so why couldn't I manage a simple box step. The truth was, you never cared if I ever learned to dance, it was only important that we got to spend time together. But I love to watch you dance... you're so beautiful and graceful. When I was little, I was convinced you could fly."

Once again, her lack of genuine personal connections tore at Rosemary. Jean-Luc, Geordi, Data - they weren't really her friends, they were Beverly's. Everything was Beverly's... including this grown man who had come light years across the galaxy to find his mother.

Wesley went on, remembering more. "We danced that night with Dad, before his last mission on the Stargazer, and you cried even though you had promised yourself that you wouldn't... so we all cried to make you feel better." The happy memory gave way to sorrow as he added, "Then I sat in your lap in the big rocker, and we both cried when Dad died... I remember the way you never stopped talking about Dad so that I wouldn't forget him."

Rosemary couldn't help but wonder what other memories he carried of his father. To her, Jack Crusher was an unmoving body on a morgue table. And that image was from someone else's memory. With a slight shake of her head, she realized Wesley was still speaking.

He was caught up in the flood of words he had always intended to say to his mother and was afraid now was going to be his only chance.

"I know that you were worried about taking a post under Dad's old friend, but then you trusted the Captain and Commander Riker - and me - enough to let me stay on board the Enterprise the year you were head of Starfleet Medical."

Rosemary wrinkled her nose at the word 'medical'. "Did Beverly really like being a doctor? There's always so much pain..."

"But sometimes, pain can be followed by so much joy. That's why you love delivering babies. 'Beginning the cycle' you call it; all those babies with their whole lives ahead of them and anything is possible." He hung his head slightly. "All this has made me realize how many things I never thanked you for -"

"Not me, your mother." The emotional outpouring of a distraught son was becoming unbearable. "Beverly did all those things."

Moving before she could react, Wesley stepped closer and took her hand. "I owe you my thanks as well, Rosemary."

She wanted him to let go of her hand but didn't want to hurt him again by jerking away. "Thank me? Why? I haven't done anything for you, Wesley."

"Yes, you have. You kept my mother safe. You didn't let her die or slip away into some debilitating coma. You've kept her active and vital and alive."

Now she did pull away from him. "Yep, I'm just keeping the body warm in case Beverly wants to move back in."

Those sad eyes got to her again and she regretted her defensive fallback into sarcasm. "Look, I know she's your mother and everything, but I'm not. All those memories you have are just stories to me. I know you've come a long way to be here, but I don't need another person trying to make me magically turn into Beverly. I can't do it - and I don't want to do it."

Wesley wasn't as devastated by her words as he might have been at the beginning of their conversation. The flash of Howard temper gave him hope that his mother would come back. He had learned a great deal about patience during his studies, and he intended to put that new knowledge to good use.

"Whatever happens is what happens, Rosemary. I just wanted to thank you." He leaned in and kissed her cheek before she knew what he was doing. "We've both said enough for now. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. I hope we can talk again soon, but we both need to do some thinking." With a brief half smile, he was gone.

Like the kiss, his quick departure left her no time to react. She felt strangely forlorn now that the young man was gone.

_'Is he like Beverly? Were they as close as he made it sound?'_

Would she ever have anything like that?

x~x

"I've been dreaming about Wesley."

Judith was surprised. Rosemary hadn't mentioned Wesley since their meeting three days ago. "I wasn't aware of that. Data hasn't..."

"I didn't need Data this time." Rosemary paced eagerly around the room. "These dreams are different; they aren't frightening. They're like the memories, just plays going on while I sleep. I want to talk to Wesley again, to find out if what I'm dreaming really happened."

"I don't think it will be a problem to arrange that. Or should I just call him now?"

"Call him," Rosemary agreed before she could lose her nerve.

x~x

Over the next week, she shared almost daily talks with Wesley, and the dreams continued to be pleasant, not threatening. Only occasionally did she grow wistful, knowing that the visions of a warm, loving mother/son relationship could never be genuinely hers.

x~x

Rather than check the computer, Wesley took a chance and was rewarded by finding Rosemary on a bench in the arboretum. Seeing her engrossed in a book, surrounded by the fragrant blooming plants, he found himself wondering if his mother was ever able to truly relax like this. He felt a tiny stab of guilt that he had never thought about it before - what his mother did in her off time when he wasn't around.

He knew about her dancing and her plays, but did she like to come here as well where the plants were real, not holodeck images?

Although Rosemary generally dispensed with shoes altogether, did his mother feel comfortable enough to kick off her shoes and curl up on a bench to read? And what sort of book would she bring? Any book brought to the arboretum could only be for pleasure. He did know that she read medical journals sitting in a straight backed chair at the dining table to ensure her concentration.

The saddest yet most important question was when had he ceased to consider the woman before him to be his mother?

"Rosemary?"

Unaware of his scrutiny or his sudden revelations, her reply was a vague, "Hello, Wesley," as her attention remained on the book she was reading. Finishing the page, she marked her place and looked up, her easy smile turning to a frown as she saw his solemn expression. "What's wrong?"

He took the seat she offered next to her before speaking. "Nothing's wrong. I... I just wanted to let you know that I have to leave soon."

"Why? Where are you going?"

The flash of panic he saw in her eyes wasn't reflected in her voice.

"I've told you about my studies as a Traveler..."

"All that time/space stuff that I didn't understand," she confirmed with a wry smile.

"Don't worry, Mom says she doesn't understand much of it either. Anyway, there are certain... demands... that mean I need to go back." He saw her try to hide her disappointment and took hope from that. "I don't want to go, but it can't be helped right now."

She cleared her throat, surprised by the sense of loss - she refused to think 'abandonment' - she felt at his announcement. He might be Beverly's son, but he had become her friend, and she didn't have many of those.

From the moment Data told her Wesley was on his way, she had dreaded that he, more than anyone else, would have uncompromising expectations of who and how she should be. When that hadn't happened, it had thrown her off balance, leaving her baffled as to how to respond to him.

Judith had seen them both through the potentially treacherous quagmire... with more than a little help from Jean-Luc and the others she had no doubt.

x~x

Standing on the transporter pad, looking down at Captain Picard and Rosemary, Wesley remembered other times he had left the Enterprise. Times when he had thought only of himself, feeling the loss of leaving family warring with the excitement of new adventures and discoveries that lay ahead.

Today there was something else, and he thought about the time when their positions had been reversed.

_'Was this how Mom felt, leaving me behind when she went to Starfleet Medical? Even though she didn't know at the time that it would be for an entire year?'_

He knew with certainty that it was. He would never leave her anywhere but in the care of these people, knowing they would keep her safe and help her in every way possible.

For her part, Rosemary had been eager to join Jean-Luc in seeing Wesley off. What she couldn't understand was why she was crying afterwards.

Picard let her cry, not telling her that Beverly had done the same thing every time Wesley left.

-tbc-


	14. Chapter 14

Shift change had taken place less than an hour ago, and Ten Forward was sparsely populated. That made it easier for him to notice that she was watching him. Given her long scrutiny, it surprised him when she left without speaking to him. Will said a quick goodbye to the group he was with and hurried after her, stepping into the turbolift just before the door closed.

They stood in silence until Rosemary, slouched against the back wall, said, "I think it's waiting for you to tell it where to take you."

"That rather depends on you," he replied with a disarming smile. "I get the feeling you're upset with me for some reason. Would you like to talk about it?"

Scowling, she demanded, "Is everybody on this ship a counselor?"

This time he laughed. "No, but as first officer, I'm used to handling personnel problems."

Crossing her arms, she hunched her shoulders. "So now I'm a problem."

"Perhaps I'm the problem," he offered. "Why were you watching me? Did I do something to upset you?"

Rosemary looked at the floor. "I... I don't know. Damn! I wish I didn't have to say that all the time. I think it's a memory, but nothing makes sense."

"And maybe it had something to do with me?"

"Just how close were you and Beverly?" she asked abruptly, then faltered at the curious look on his face. "I mean I'd hate to be breaking up the romance of the century just because I don't remember anything."

"We've been good friends for several years," he said cautiously.

Before he could continue, the door opened.

The lieutenant waiting there, a seasoned veteran of numerous difficult encounters, was given pause when she saw the lift's occupants. She had seen them leave Ten Forward a few minutes earlier and was confused to find them still in the lift.

Will took Rosemary's arm, leading her out and down the corridor to a nearby, rarely used lounge. Settling them both on a small sofa, he said, "Why don't you tell me more about this 'memory'."

Suddenly, everything seemed too close - the room, the couch, him. It took all she had to resist the urge to move, to put some distance between them. She refused to look at him, however, as she struggled to get a clear enough picture to put into words. She spoke in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves, unable to be contained. "Like I said, it doesn't make sense. It's you... but sometimes it isn't you exactly... and it's a lot more than good friends."

Will sighed. "You couldn't pick one of our confrontations, could you?" he asked wryly. "Well, the good news is I can explain it..."

Glumly she finished for him. "And the bad news is I won't like it."

"No, the bad news is it might be just as confusing as the memory. You can relax about one thing though; 'romance of the century' in no way describes my relationship with Beverly. But, she is one of my closest friends."

It took a while and a lot of explaining about Trills and their symbionts, but eventually, Rosemary said she understood what had happened between Beverly, Odan and Will.

"Why did you volunteer to be the host?"

It was a question Will had always suspected that Beverly wanted to ask. He wondered if he could give Rosemary the simple answer and be lucky enough to have her accept it. "To keep the negotiations going, of course."

"That's the Starfleet officer talking. Why did Will Riker do it?"

So much for luck, but this question was very Beverly, too. "Because I saw a friend who was hurting, and I wanted to do something."

"You knew Beverly and Odan were involved?" He nodded, wary of where this was leading. "Would you do it again?"

He was only half sure how to answer that. "For the negotiation, yes. For Beverly? Maybe not, but only because I don't know how much it helped her."

"That's a lot to do for a 'friend'." She arched an eyebrow at him.

Will reddened slightly. "Beverly is more than a friend and less than a lover. She's done more for me than I can ever repay, and she never asks for anything for herself. She deserves to be happy."

"Did Odan make her happy?"

"I think so... until Fate turned against her. Again."

She scowled at him. "You don't believe in Fate, do you?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because I don't like the idea that it was 'Fated' for me to be here, surrounded by people who want me to be somebody else!"

She got to her feet, and he thought she was going to leave, but she began to roam restlessly around the room. Her movements reminded him of prisoners he had seen in the brig - except that her cell was an entire ship.

_'Or is it her entire life?'_

That was a depressing image that he couldn't quite shake off.

When she came back in range, he caught her hand. "I won't lie to you by saying we don't miss Beverly or that we don't want her back. We desperately want both those things because Beverly is very important to us. But that doesn't make you any less important. You have developed into your own person - even if you happen to be a part of Beverly Crusher."

"A nice sentiment, Commander, but I'm not the part anybody wants."

"That's not exactly true. You're the side people would like to see more of in Beverly. As Rosemary, you have no responsibilities or duties. You are more relaxed. Beverly only lets us see glimpses of her humor. You're giving us a whole new insight to a friend we thought we already knew."

Despite her slight smile, her eyes darkened with sadness and her voice cracked slightly as she said, "And while you're all learning new things about Beverly, nobody sees me. Why should you? I don't even know who I am."

Will's heart ached as he watched her leave.

x~x

It wasn't terribly late, but the counselor hadn't been expecting visitors - not until she sensed him exiting the turbolift. She met him at the door as he was reaching for the chime.

In his agitation, Will didn't wait for an invitation, simply walked past her. Stopping in the middle of the room he turned and spoke quickly, "I told her about Odan." He forced himself to look at Deanna as he waited to be chastised for interfering with a patient.

Deanna sat back and watched the first officer shift his weight from foot to foot. The emotional mix was intriguing. He was absolutely certain he had done the right thing and at the same time was totally convinced he had made a huge mistake. "Sit down, Will. This isn't a court martial."

He looked as though standing was his own self-imposed penance, but he finally gave in, taking a position on the very edge of the chair across from her.

"What made you tell her about Odan?"

"She asked," he said simply. One look at the counselor's face told him he was going to have do better than that. "She was remembering bits and pieces. You have to admit it was confusing enough being there for the whole thing. Trying to figure it out any other way... Well, I thought it was the best thing to do at that moment."

Deanna shook her head, laughing softly. "I'm beginning to think I spent far too much time earning my degree. Everybody's a counselor now - and good ones!"

"We learned the hard way...," he grimaced, "in real life situations."

Searching his face, she realized something else. "You learned something yourself tonight, didn't you?"

"I guess I realized how she must have felt, looking for Odan and seeing me. I see Beverly, but it's Rosemary inside. And I want to tell her I understand now, but I can't because..." His voice trailed off, not wanting say the words out loud.

"You'll get the chance, Will," Deanna said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. "One day."

x~x

The memory of Odan sparked nightmares in which she was implanting not a symbiont but a ravenous parasite into Will Riker, bringing on a major regression in the progress they had made with Rosemary.

Nearly identical to her reaction to Geordi, for days it was difficult for her to be in the same room with Will, becoming hysterical if he came too close or tried to assure her that he wasn't injured in any way.

It became the pattern for the following months.

A memory or actual incident would set off horrifying dreams which led to a return of the uneasiness she had originally experienced around each person.

All that had to be worked through again in addition to finding a way to sort the original memories from the artificial ones.

Selar... Alyssa... Deanna... all were subjects of her nightmares - despicable, vicious dreams that made her unwilling to close her eyes many nights.

They explained their theory as to why Data never appeared in her dreams, but Rosemary didn't much care about why. She was grateful, whatever the reason, to have someone available to talk with at any time of night.

Picard tried to arrange his schedule to be available for each of the first three sessions whenever a new set of dreams surfaced. As the hysteria began to overwhelm her, he would whisk her back to her quarters.

On the occasions that he wasn't available, one of the others who had already been a subject of Rosemary's dreams was called in to substitute. She usually asked for Geordi first, a request most likely based on the fact that he was her first friend. Riker tended to be her second choice although no one was sure why.

She never asked for Deanna.

-tbc-


	15. Chapter 15

She hadn't had a nightmare in over a week and a half, which left Rosemary tense and edgy in anticipation of the next onslaught. Too fidgety to concentrate on a new design and with all her friends on duty, she had wracked her brain for what seemed like hours in search of an outlet for her energy before the answer came to her.

Keying up the holodeck, she entered with a faint sense of trepidation. Jean-Luc had told her she could use his Labarre program any time she liked, but it felt strange being here without him.

_'Pull yourself together,'_ she admonished. _'You were here with him once, it was weeks ago, and you spent most of that time alone.'_ The self-lecture didn't lessen the feeling of disappointment.

Instructing the computer to start at the same place Jean-Luc had, she once again stood looking down on the village and the vineyard. Tempted to take the path by the river as she had the last time, she gave herself another scolding for being a coward. She resolutely decided to tour the village today. They would know Jean-Luc, but they wouldn't be family the way the people at the vineyard would be.

Rather than have the computer start again within the village, she decided that a long walk would give her time to tame the fluttering in her stomach.

All she had to do was start walking.

_'Come on, Rosemary, take that first step,'_ she urged herself. _'Jean-Luc might have modeled them after real people, but they aren't real.'_

It wasn't as reassuring as she would have liked, but it was enough to get her moving.

x~x

The walk did calm her nerves, and by the time she reached the village, she was able to enjoy strolling down the picturesque streets, greeting the smiling villagers easily.

This was what she had wanted for so long - a place where being a stranger didn't matter.

She was peering in the window of the bookshop that Jean-Luc had described so beautifully when something else caught her attention. The scent of fresh bread drifting on the breeze made her realize that her butterflies had been replaced by hunger. Suddenly ravenous, she turned to follow her nose.

At that moment, the door of the shop opened, and a woman stepped out. Her simple gray skirt and plain white blouse gave her a slightly austere appearance, but the smile lighting her soft brown eyes belied that image.

"Bonjour," she said in a softly accented voice. "I saw you looking through the window. Was there something that interested you?"

Rosemary chuckled. "To be honest, as enticing as they are, your paper and ink are no match for an empty stomach. I was just going to find something to eat and then come back when I can concentrate."

"Bon, that is an excellent plan. I find that focused customers are far more profitable."

"You are a very astute businesswoman," Rosemary commended. "Could you help me develop my 'focus' by directing me to whatever is the source of that wonderful smell?"

"The bakery? Certainement - it's just up the street on the square. In fact, I was on my way there myself."

"Feeling a bit out of focus?"

The women's shared laughter followed them up the street.

Rosemary's mouth watered as they drew closer to the source of the heavenly scent, but once at the window, her attention was quickly captured by the strawberry tarts. "Mmmm, maybe I'll start with desert and eat backwards."

Pushing open the door, a bell jangled merrily to announce their arrival. A man came bustling out of the back in a cloud of flour as he dusted his hands on his apron.

"Ah, Sylvie, have you come for lunch to feed those two hollow-legged boys of yours?"

"My two sons, Giles and Thierry," she explained to Rosemary. "They work in the shop with me... but they can wait a bit longer without suffering greatly. Marcel, please take care of your other customer so that she will come back to the shop and purchase many books."

"With pleasure. Bonjour, mademoiselle. What can I get for you?"

Reluctantly turning her attention from the tempting pastry display in the case before her, she acknowledged his cheery greeting with a bright smile of her own, saying, "I'm not sure I can choose. Everything looks and smells so wonderful."

"Merci. I promise you, it tastes just as good. You are new to the village, non? I am Marcel Bernard."

"I'm just visiting. A..." she hesitated, wondering what and how much to tell them. "A friend of mine grew up near here."

The man's round face broke into a wide grin under his bushy brown moustache. "Ah, you must be Mademoiselle Rosemary."

She could feel suspicion flash along every nerve at his words. Now on her guard, she stepped back from the case, asking warily, "You know about me?"

"But of course! Yvonne," he called to the back room, "come quickly. Captain Picard's friend is here. Sylvie, this is -"

"Yes, I thought she might be," the woman interrupted gracefully, seeing Rosemary's expression darken. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Rosemary took the offered hand briefly then quickly broke the contact. "Captain Picard told you about me, too?"

"Oh, Jean-Luc and I are old friends. We grew up together. Being quite smitten with his older brother, Robert, I was more than willing to wait on Jean-Luc whenever he came into the shop, just to pump him for information. Alas, Robert took no notice of me, and my poor broken heart had to be mended by Armand Gaspard."

The personal revelation, meant to be a friendly confidence, did not make Rosemary feel better. Her enjoyment of the program had been ruined the moment she realized that everyone in the village knew who she was. _'Damn you, Jean-Luc, why did you tell them about me?'_ Hurt warred with anger until she decided it was less painful to be angry.

"Suddenly, I'm not hungry after all," she said aloud, her disillusionment showing despite her best efforts to cover it. "I'll let you all get back to your -" She broke off as a woman came from the back room carrying a tray of pastry.

Her dark hair was pulled back into simple bun, and she wore no makeup. She might have been considered plain, but there was an honesty in her eyes and a sincerity in her smile that outshone a classical beauty.

"Yvonne," Marcel waved her closer, "this is Mademoiselle Rosemary. Mademoiselle, my wife Yvonne Bernard."

The baker's wife could see that something was upsetting their visitor and wondered if she had arrived that way. "It is a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle," she said.

"And you, madame." It was hard for Rosemary not to warm to the older woman's genuine openness. "You must forgive me for needing an introduction. I don't seem to have received the same amount of information that all of you have."

Marcel chuckled. "See how her eyes flash because she thinks the Captain has talked out of turn. Is she not everything he described? Beautiful with fiery red hair..." then with a wink he added, "and a temper to match."

"Temper?" she repeated angrily, giving truth to the description. "He said that? I'll show him temper -"

"Marcel, you shouldn't talk so much," his wife scolded. She now had the answer to her question as to the origin of the other woman's ire and couldn't blame her. It must be disconcerting to realize that someone had been talking about her to total strangers. Smiling at Rosemary, she said, "Captain Picard also said that your wit was as quick as your temper. He must be a good friend to describe you so."

"Why?" Rosemary asked, beginning to have severe doubts about Jean-Luc's 'friendship'.

"Because a man in love sees only the wit," Yvonne replied knowingly. "A man not in love sees only the temper. A true friend sees both and appreciates them."

"I certainly hope he appreciates the temper today, because I don't find any of this the least bit funny."

"I meant no offense, mademoiselle."

Looking into the woman's dark eyes and seeing her obvious concern that it was hard for Rosemary to remember she was only a holographic image. "You haven't offended me, Madame Bernard. I'm angry with myself - mostly. If you'll excuse me..."

Hurrying out the door, she avoided making eye contact with any of the villagers as she all but ran through the streets she had so recently enjoyed.

It didn't occur to her to stop the program, once again using the distance between the village and her starting point to work off some of her roiling emotions. By the time she reached the top of the last hill she had succeeded in making herself hot and sweaty but no less angry.

x~x

Picard checked the table... then the chronometer... then his calendar.

One noticeable difference between Beverly and Rosemary was that while the doctor was chronically late to most things, her alter ego was as punctual as a Vulcan.

_'So where is she now?'_ Picard mused as the minutes crept by. Trying not to worry, he opened a link.

"Picard to Rosemary."

There was no response. He was about to page her again when he heard one sharp word.

"What?"

_'Someone's in trouble,'_ he thought and braced himself against the clear indication that it was him. Aloud he said, "Weren't we scheduled to have dinner together this evening?"

"Why don't you go to France and have dinner with your friends in the village... and leave me the hell alone!"

"Rosemary!"

There was no reply. She had already severed the link.

He couldn't fathom what he had done to upset her so, and her comments about France and the village only served to confuse the matter more. For all the things he didn't understand, one thing was clear. He couldn't let this rift between them widen by letting her anger simmer.

Leaving his quarters, he went down the corridor to the turbolift.

He didn't stop to think that if a similar scenario had happened with Beverly he would never had made an attempt to confront her.

x~x

Her door was closed, another sign of the severity of the situation.

Repeated rings of the door chime had elicited only one response.

"Stop doing that!"

Jean-Luc used his override to open the door... and was hit the instant he entered. Stepping over the forest green accent pillow that normally resided on the sofa but now lay at his feet, he gazed at the woman standing stiffly on the far side of the room. She was using the sofa as a barricade between them, which was apparently a good idea - for his sake.

"Get out."

"Rosemary, we've discussed your manners in relation to hitting once before," he said formally. "I trust that we need not do it again."

Hands clenched at her sides, the sound she stifled was more than a groan and less than a scream. "That's it?" she cried in disbelief. "All you can do is to tell me to mind my manners? Don't you get it? I'm angry!"

"I can see that, but -"

"I have a right to be angry, and you're damned lucky that it was only a pillow!"

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't be angry," he countered, "however, that does not require the throwing of inanimate objects, or shouting." He paused, waiting for a reply. He wanted her to know that he respected her feelings but that there was a proper way to express them.

Her posture eased the slightest bit, but she didn't speak.

"At least give me a chance to defend myself. Please tell me what I've done to hurt you." He started toward her but her hardening expression made him stop.

"You told me I could use your Labarre program and then you ruined it!"

Jean-Luc's mouth dropped open, and he quickly closed it to avoid inciting her further. At a loss, he tried to figure out what he had missed. _'All this over a holodeck program? There must be something else.'_ "I take it you didn't care for some portion of it," he said, treading cautiously. "I can change anything you don't like. While I would prefer to leave the landscape as authentic as possible, there are any number of other variables -"

"I don't give a damn about the landscape," she interrupted harshly. "You told them about me."

"Told them?" he repeated blankly. "Told who?"

"The whole damn village, that's who!"

"What's wrong with that? I didn't want you to feel like they were strangers."

"But they are strangers! And for once, it wasn't going to matter." She was too furious to cry, but that same fury made it impossible for her to sit still. Her steps were short, jerky as though each one required a conscious decision about direction, length and speed.

Her phrasing was choppy as well. "I was going to meet people who didn't have any preconceived notions about who I was or how I should behave. I was going to get to be me not the person who used to be Beverly. I didn't get a chance to know them because they already knew me." Realizing her hands had been failing in the air in time with her pacing, she clenched her fists once more and stuffed them in the pockets of her dress. "They knew all about me because you told them... or programmed them... or whatever you did."

Jean-Luc knew he must appear very dense, but he still didn't understand why she was so upset. "I didn't put anything about Beverly in the program, only about you. And I told you about them."

"No, you didn't," she all but shouted. "'Go see the bakery on the square' you said. 'And the book shop has been in the same family for generations, you'll enjoy getting to know them.' You didn't tell me what they looked like, or that Marcel was married to Yvonne, or that you grew up with Sylvie." Abruptly, the anger drained from her and was replaced by a despair he had never seen before. "You told them I was beautiful, that I had a quick temper and a quick wit. They knew so many little things about me, and I didn't know them. They had expectations I didn't know how to live up to. It was just like that first day I woke up on this ship with everybody expecting me to be Beverly."

Her voice broke, but her eyes remained dry. She had cried too long over too many things, and now she didn't have any tears left. She felt as though she didn't have much of anything left.

Jean-Luc's heart sank as he realized the terrible mistake he had made. In wanting her to feel secure, he had quite possibly ruined weeks of progress.

"Go away, Jean-Luc," she whispered despondently, sounding tired, emotionally and physically. "I can't take any more tonight."

He crossed the room, more than willing to move into striking range if that was what she needed. "Rosemary, I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. It was callous of me not to see the similarity. I only wanted them to call you by your name. Can you forgive me?"

Understanding his reasoning, she wanted to be touched by his efforts, but all she could feel was hurt and strangely betrayed.

"I do."

The forgiveness was clearly sincere, but he also knew that this rift was not going to be easily mended. She was enough like Beverly for him to know that she would need time alone to work think things through. He also knew she wouldn't take proper care of herself.

Trying not to sound patronizing or captainly, he said, "Obviously, you don't feel like company right now, much less dinner with me, but please promise you'll eat something tonight."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters. It's bad enough when I mistreat my friends. I don't like to think of them mistreating themselves." A fleeting ghost of a smile at the corners of her mouth gave him hope. "Perhaps we could reschedule dinner for tomorrow."

Fresh anger flared briefly in her eyes, but then quickly died. "It wasn't a schedule," she said, her hard, flat tone clearly telling him that he had erred again - and that at the moment she didn't care enough to fight about it. "It was a date. That may be a four-letter word, but it isn't dirty. I certainly don't want to add another duty to your long list of responsibilities, Captain, so you may consider yourself relieved of this one... and breakfast, too."

"You are not a duty, Rosemary," he said with a hint of desperation, fearing that his blunder had created a new barrier for Judith McKenna to overcome. "I don't wish to be 'relieved' of spending time with you. Please excuse the appalling failure of my own manners and allow me to invite you to dinner in my quarters tomorrow evening." Receiving neither a positive nor a negative response, he added what he hoped would be the magic words, "Is it a date?"

"No, thank you," she replied with icy reserve. "Everyone is trying to decide what I need... security, familiarity..." With a resolute sigh, she looked up at him. "I have to define my needs on my own. And the first thing I need is to be left alone. Good night, Captain."

The use of his title for a second time - twice more than she had ever used it before - told him this was not going to be quickly or easily resolved. Murmuring a soft good night, he left. A split second after the door closed behind him, he heard the unmistakable click of the lock.

x~x

Judith was confused. The session with Rosemary had covered quite a bit of ground but never touched on the one subject she felt they needed to discuss. None of her leading questions had proved effective, so she was down to her last option - the direct approach.

"I spoke with the captain last night. He told me about what happened with his holodeck program."

"Hmm." Rosemary sipped her drink, knowing what was coming next.

"Well, that was certainly non-committal. Would you care to expand on that?"

"No."

The neutrality of the last response raised a warning flag. "This isn't like you, Rosemary. What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on. If he had a problem with what happened yesterday, I'm very glad he sought help." Setting her glass on the table, she bent over to put on her shoes. Finding only the left one, she got down to look under the sofa. Her words were muffled as she asked, "Are we finished for today?"

Judith couldn't conceal her puzzlement. "You don't think we should talk about what happened?"

Rosemary brushed wisps of red hair out of her eyes as she sat up, errant shoe in hand. "Why? It has nothing to do with my so-called 'condition'. I don't see how it concerns anyone but Jean-Luc and me."

"The fact that you were actually looking forward to meeting strangers - even holo-generated ones - has nothing to do with your condition?"

"Everyone is a stranger when you first meet them," Rosemary said, clearly feeling that she was stating the obvious. "The point neither of you seem to get is that I was going to be a stranger, too." When Judith still didn't appear to understand, she gave an exasperated huff. "This whole ship treats me as though I'm an old friend, but I'm just now getting to know them. The village was going to be different because - supposedly - they didn't know anything about me. They were going to learn about me, without looking to see if I did things the way Beverly would or the way Jean-Luc described me. For the first time, I wasn't going to be considered inadequate because I wasn't what they expected."

"You aren't inadequate, Rosemary. You-"

"I know I'm not inadequate. That perception happens to be other peoples' problem. As for the argument I had with Jean-Luc, that's something we have to resolve between us. Surely the whole crew doesn't bring every disagreement to a counselor to be solved?"

"No... and I agree that you and the Captain should be the ones to deal with your displeasure concerning his actions, but I think you and I should discuss why you were so eager to meet a village full of total strangers."

"I told you why."

Getting up from the floor, she hopped on one foot over to the desk as she struggled to get her other shoe on. Successful both in reaching her destination and in dressing herself, she reached over to turn the chronometer around. "Are we finished now?"

"Are you late for another appointment?" Judith asked in a mock jealous tone.

"Not yet," Rosemary replied placidly. "I'm supposed to meet Geordi for a tour of Engineering. I probably won't understand a word of it, but he seemed so eager to show off his domain." Her teasing took on a slightly more serious tone as she added, "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get a full report on whatever happens."

"Full report?

Rosemary laughed at Judith's return to an uninformed state. "Every time I stub my toe - which Data politely reminds me would not occur if I attired myself in appropriate footwear on a regular basis - someone comes running to you. By the time I show up for my session, you've already decided how to steer the conversation so that you ask precisely the right questions, then you keep pressing until I say what you want to hear. Sometimes I say things just to placate you or to make you leave me alone. I'm not always sure why you need me here at all."

Judith was ashamed of herself for using the technique - and embarrassed at being caught. "You're quite right. I'll let everyone know that it won't be necessary for them to keep me advised of every moment they spend with you, as long as you understand that there will be things that bother them on occasion. I'll have them take those concerns to Deanna, but she and I will discuss them. If you don't mention an incident within a week of its occurrence, I'll consider the matter closed."

"Sounds fair enough."

"Are you still angry with the Captain?"

Rosemary shook her head in resignation at Judith's tenacity. "For which part? Telling those holo-people about me or telling you about our fight?"

"Yes."

Snickering, she gave up trying to outthink her counselor. "Well I can't really be mad at him for telling you what happened since I had never told anyone that it bothers me. As for the holodeck thing, I understand his reasoning as to why he put information about me into the program," she conceded, then added stubbornly, "but he should have discussed it with me first."

"The Captain seems like a man who learns pretty quickly from his mistakes so I think he got your message."

"Well," Rosemary grinned cheekily, "he'll certainly remember the delivery."

-tbc-


	16. Chapter 16

Two hours later, Rosemary was back in her cabin, pacing the floor, mostly out of guilt. Guilt because much as she had tried to be attentive during Geordi's tour, her mind wasn't where she was. Guilt because her mind was off replaying a scene where she had been unreasonable at best and childish at worst. Guilt because she had berated Jean-Luc for a simple misjudgment instead of appreciating his efforts to give her a place where people knew her, not Beverly.

Hoping she hadn't waited too long, she checked the computer. With a sigh of relief, she learned that he was in his Ready Room, and he was alone. Though she still felt a trifle ridiculous for talking to thin air, she said, "Rosemary to Picard."

"Picard here."

"Jean-Luc, I'm sorry to disturb you while you're on duty, but I couldn't let this drag on any longer. I want to apologize for my part in our argument. I know you meant well, and I shouldn't have been so quick to judge."

"It's all right, Rosemary," he replied easily. "You had every right to be angry, and I'm very grateful that you... um... 'expressed' your anger only with a pillow."

The amused sincerity in his voice assured her that the friendship wasn't irreparably damaged. She heard his chair creak softly and imagined him sitting back with a faint smile - the one he usually tried to hide - tugging at his mouth.

"Okay," she conceded, "I apologize for that, too, but maybe it will teach you to let me cool off before you try to talk to me."

"I don't intend for there to be a next time, if I can help it. If I do something to hurt or offend you, I want you to tell me, not stew about it."

"Well, I can't promise that since I rarely know how I'm going to react to anything." Rosemary paused then asked hesitantly, "Jean-Luc, would you... have dinner with me tomorrow in my cabin?"

"I would like that very much, Rosemary, on one condition."

"I'll have to hear the condition first."

"Join me for breakfast in the morning?"

"Yes, please," she replied with a relieved laugh.

"I know it's only been a day, but I've missed seeing you."

"I've missed you, too, Jean-Luc."

She heard him clear his throat and knew he was uncomfortable with the personal turn the conversation had taken.

"What time shall I come for dinner?"

She thought a moment. "We'd better make it 8:00. I've got a story time at 6:30 and if it runs over, I want to have some time to get ready."

"Story time?" The surprise was clear in his voice and now when the chair creaked, she knew he was sitting forward, expecting an explanation.

"For the kids on my deck - and a few others since word has spread."

"I haven't heard anything about it."

"That's because you live on a deck where the occupants are either singles or childless couples. You also studiously avoid the seven and under crowd."

"And you're about to tell me what I'm missing."

"There's no use in me telling you what you already know," she replied pointedly. "Anyway, I've got a group that meets every other evening. We're in the middle of the Rizva'n legends, and the kids are always begging for more. Their parents practically have to drag them out some nights."

"Which is an excellent reason to avoid the seven and under crowd."

"Ha, ha," she retorted, wishing she could see the wry glint she knew was in his eyes. _'He has such lovely eyes.'_ Startled by the sudden tangent her thoughts had taken, she tried to cover. "So, I'll see you tomorrow night at eight?"

"Yes, ma'am, we'll have dinner at eight. Picard out."

Rosemary flopped down on her sofa, staring at the ceiling. Something about the phrasing of his last statement snagged her, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was.

x~x

The next evening, Rosemary was trying to get her audience settled when a little boy tugged at her sleeve and pointed at the door which was open, as usual.

Picard stood there awkwardly, understanding too late his tactical error. _'How could I have possibly overlooked the no-so-minor point that watching Rosemary read to children would actually involve children?'_

"Good evening, Captain," Rosemary said, beckoning him in. Her formality was primarily for the children's benefit... but it also helped keep her from bursting into laughter both at his woebegone expression and the children's awestruck ones.

Like a nest full of baby birds, a dozen small mouths dropped open as the children stared at the Captain they had heard about but whom none had ever seen.

He always found it awkward to be the center of attention and at the moment he felt especially self-conscious. "Good evening, Rosemary, uh, children. I understand that I have been missing some of the finest entertainment on board the Enterprise. May I join you?"

Rosemary made a show of considering the request. "What do you think, gang? Should we let him stay?"

Eleven pairs of eyes widened even farther at the unfathomable prospect of granting the captain permission to do anything.

One young lady, however, was far from intimidated. She got up, marched straight to Picard, and batting her green eyes at him, slipped her tiny hand into his to lead him over to the group. "He can stay," she proclaimed, lisping slightly.

Both adults could barely their amusement at her decisive 'command' style.

"Kids," Rosemary said, "you all know who Captain Picard is, but he doesn't know you. Why don't you introduce yourselves?"

A tug on his hand drew his attention to the slight figure at his side. "My name's Natalie Zar, I'm five and you're not as scary as Mommy says."

He offered her a small bow of gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Natalie... I think." Spying a face peeking from behind Rosemary, Picard knelt down on one knee in hopes of appearing less intimidating. "And who might you be, young man?"

The boy ducked back, and it took considerable coaxing for him to emerge once more, displaying a shy, gap-tooth smile.

"It's okay," Rosemary assured him gently, "tell him your name."

"I'm Freddie Pierce," he mumbled in a small voice.

"Very pleased to meet you, Master Freddie," Picard replied, "and how old are you?" He looked up at Rosemary when the boy shrank back again.

Natalie once again took charge, ducking around Rosemary to get behind Freddie and push him out. "Don't be 'fraid. He's nice. Freddie's five, too, but he's not brave like me."

"Nat's not 'fraid of anything," Freddie said adoringly, forgetting to be scared for the moment.

Recalling one or two of his own youthful escapades, Picard smiled as he cautioned, "Well, there is a difference between being brave and being reckless."

"What's reck'ess?" Natalie demanded curiously.

"It's the stuff you're not supposed to do, like wandering off when somebody is being nice enough to show you around a place you don't usually get to go." Rosemary's answer was clearly intended to reinforce a previous lesson, but she didn't belabor the point.

Now that the ice had been broken - and the captain proved to be "not scary" as Natalie had proclaimed - the other introductions were quickly accomplished. The six girls and four boys were all older than Natalie and Freddie but still just as fascinated to meet him. However, he was grateful when Rosemary returned to the task of getting them settled.

While Rosemary and the children each had her or his own large pillow in a rainbow of colors to make themselves comfortable on the floor, Jean-Luc wasn't yet willing to relax quite so completely. Instead, he opted to sit on the sofa behind the group. Many of them looked back at him on occasion, but they soon became absorbed in the story and forgot all about him. Rosemary sensed his eyes on her and felt rather conspicuous for it, but she, too, eventually lost herself in the telling of the tale.

Carefully turning the heavy cream colored pages of the large leather bound book, she brought the story to life, using different voices for each character.

Once he was no longer a distraction, Picard moved quietly to the computer terminal on Rosemary's desk. He fed in the names of the children and was quickly rewarded with the list of corresponding parents and department assignments. Downloading the information to a padd, he returned to the couch where he could study it while keeping an ear to the recitation. It was an interesting way to get to know members of his crew that he might not encounter otherwise.

x~x

Two stories and an hour later, parents began appearing to pick up their children - and to rescue Rosemary. Some mothers, some fathers, a few couples, all were startled and not a little disconcerted to find the Captain in attendance. Picard had risen from his seat at the first arrival and put everyone at ease, calling them by name as he studiously kept the spotlight centered on the children.

The children protested the evening's end, clamoring for 'just one more', as usual. Rosemary would not be swayed, reminding them that if all the stories were read on one night, they wouldn't have anything to look forward to the next time.

Finally giving up, each child went to Rosemary to say thank you and give her a hug. Young Natalie again led the way. Having said her piece to her hostess, she then turned and walked straight over to Picard to offer him a hug as well. He felt incredibly awkward as he knelt to be on her level and was relieved when the other children settled for a simple goodbye. He began to relax and almost to enjoy the attention.

The parents were shocked then delighted. They were aware of his discomfiture at appearing less than captainly in front of crewmembers, but they could also see his obvious sincerity with the children.

For more than a dozen members of his crew, Jean-Luc Picard's reputation grew.

Once the children and their parents were gone, Rosemary turned to Picard, hands on her hips. "Now I know what bothered me about your last comment yesterday."

His blank look in return was genuine.

"You said 'we'll have dinner at eight', not 'I'll see you at eight'. You were planning to show up all along."

Picard thought back over the conversation and realized she was partially correct. "It was a half-formed plan at best," he admitted. "I hadn't considered it all the way through when I made the statement."

"Meaning you hadn't figured out that there would actually be children here?"

After more than twenty-five years of friendship, he had almost gotten used to the fact that Beverly could read him that well, but it was unnerving for Rosemary to do it as well. "How did you know?"

"Your face." She chuckled at the memory. "You looked as though you were afraid I was going to lock you in here alone with them."

"I believe I handled the situation quite well."

"Once Natalie gave you a push."

The tips of his ears turned pink at that. "To quote Freddie, 'Nat's not afraid of anything' so how could I be?"

"Apparently, you could be and were. From the stories you've told me about the confrontations you've handled, I don't know a group of little kids could intimidate you." She shrugged one shoulder in dismissive resignation. "Now, since you chose to show up early, you'll have to entertain yourself while I freshen up."

"I would apologize if I hadn't enjoyed your performance so much. Please take all the time you need."

"I was going to do that anyway," she said over her shoulder as she sashayed into the bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, Rosemary returned having changed out of the slacks and shirt that allowed her to sit on the floor with the children and into a sleeveless dress that mimicked Picard's uniform in reverse with a black bodice and a black and red skirt that skimmed her knees.

Beverly or Rosemary, he wasn't any more successful at keeping himself from admiring her legs. "That didn't take long," he said to distract himself.

"I didn't need long, but it appears you managed to keep yourself occupied," she noted, crossing to the dining area.

The table was laid out for dinner complete with a small floral centerpiece that had been delivered fresh from the arboretum. A quick trip to his quarters had been required to fetch the bottle of Picard wine that had been opened to allow it to breathe.

"What about food?"

"I left the decision about the menu up to you. I wasn't sure how much of an appetite you worked up during your performance."

A brief discussion led them to begin with thick tomato bisque accompanied by warm bread and salad. That would be followed by a French entrée she couldn't pronounce but Jean-Luc assured her would complement the wine perfectly.

"You cheated," Rosemary said as they sat down to dinner.

The conversational leap was only mildly disconcerting. "Cheated? At what?"

"I saw you at the computer. I know you looked up all the kids' parents, and then when they came in, you acted as though you really knew who they were."

Jean-Luc was unfazed by her accusation. "There are times when a captain has to display an aura of -

"Infallibility?"

"No, I was going to say assurance. Besides, it's a boost to their confidence to be recognized."

She snorted indelicately. "A boost to their confidence... or to your ego when they think you know them?"

The jibe was deliberately cutting and before he could stop it, he found himself responding in kind. "I would think, given the fit you pitched over the holodeck program, that you of all people would understand the need to be recognized."

"Yes, I know it very well," she retorted hotly. "The difference is that even if they do call me Rosemary, everybody still thinks of me as Beverly. I'm not now, and probably never will be, recognized for myself."

She flung her napkin on the table, but with a frustrated groan, he caught her arm before she could push her chair back.

"Merde," he muttered. "You and Beverly both have a knack for putting people at ease, but you also have the ability to get under my skin faster than a roomful of posturing admirals." He shook his head at her unrepentant grin. "Please, we've just cleared up one argument. Can we stop this one before it starts?"

She gave him a long, hard look then the anger in her eyes dissipated like steam. "Sure, why not? We'll probably have another one soon enough."

He marveled at her unexpected capitulation but took the opening it offered to change the subject. "I did enjoy the evening's entertainment. Thank you for letting me stay."

"It was the kids' choice. Feel free to come back any time... but leave that at home," she said indicating his red and black uniform. "Starfleet is already a big enough force in these kids' lives; they don't need a reminder during a simple story hour."

"You don't like Starfleet much, do you?" He knew that Beverly chafed under many of the restrictions and limitations that she felt didn't allow her to do her job the way she saw fit. She supported the Prime Directive as it pertained to the rights of civilizations to govern themselves without outside interference, but when it dictated that she stand idly by while people suffered and died, she never did it silently.

Rosemary shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm not part of it, yet its rules and regulations govern a large portion of my life. It hardly seems to matter whether I like or dislike it."

"Which is one reason you feel such an empathy with the children."

Unnerved by the insight he always seemed to have, she picked up her wine glass to delay having to answer. "I guess so," she said at last. "Children accept you for exactly what they see. As long as you're honest with them, they don't expect you to be anything - or anyone - else."

Jean-Luc followed her example, taking a sip of his wine to keep himself from speaking the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. They had just gotten past one unpleasant incident on this subject, and he had no desire to begin another one.

He decided to focus on her secondary point instead. "Perhaps they expect more. Adults understand that things don't always work out for the best. Children look to adults to protect them and make bad things go away. That's an incredible responsibility when you're the captain of a starship carrying over a thousand people, too many of whom aren't here by their own choice but because their parents are in Starfleet."

"Why did you take this post if you feel that way?" she asked curiously. "Surely Starfleet has ships without children."

"Yes, they do, but Admiral Nechayev rather conveniently neglected to tell me this would be a family ship until after I had accepted the command."

"You couldn't tell her you had changed your mind?"

He had thought about it - briefly. "I wanted the flagship. That may sound arrogant, but I saw it as the next step in my career."

"And you were willing to tolerate a few kids to keep your career on track." Rosemary seemed to be somehow disappointed in him.

"It wasn't as selfish as that," he protested, trying not to sound defensive. "I've always understood the logic behind keeping families together..." he paused to clear a throat gone suddenly tight, "but I also know how very dangerous space can be."

"Is that why you don't have a wife or children of your own?"

The question was a combination of innocent interest and piercing insight, and it stirred emotions in him that he didn't want to deal with right now on top of everything else.

Most people thought he didn't like children. The truth was that they were a bittersweet reminder of the family he didn't have.

He stared at his plate as he recalled the hug Natalie had given him this evening. As Captain Picard he had been embarrassed, but he knew with absolute conviction that he would joyously welcome the same gesture from his own child.

A son who looked like him, with hazel eyes and chestnut hair that he would be genetically predisposed to lose far too early.

A daughter whose family history would be told in her hair as well - and in the fiery temper that would accompany it - for she would be exactly like her mother.

Because her mother would be Beverly, the only woman he had ever imagined being married to, having children with.

Beverly - who was now Rosemary and didn't remember the son she had or the husband she had lost.

Rosemary - who was watching the play of emotions across his face. She didn't break the lengthening silence, fearing she had overstepped by asking such a personal question, but wondering which part bothered him the most.

She had paid close attention tonight and knew that anyone who believed he disliked children was very much mistaken. That he would revel in fatherhood had been obvious.

Could the missing piece be the woman?

She was certain he'd had his share of relationships, but he was a man who would love truly, deeply only once, perhaps twice in his life.

Had some woman been foolish enough to reject his love? To reject the gentle, tender-hearted man who lurked just beneath the surface of the gruff image he projected?

Or had Cupid's arrow struck too late? Had his one true love been unattainable because she had given her heart to someone else?

"There are... reasons," he said, finally, if vaguely, answering the question she scarcely remembered asking.

Wanting, for the moment, to look anywhere but at her, his gaze darted around the room and landed on the coffee table.

"The book you were reading from tonight, where did you get it?" There was something familiar about it that he couldn't quite place.

"Wesley gave it to me. He caught the tail end of a story time when he was here and told me about some of the things Beverly read to him as a child. The next day he showed up with that. I can't imagine him going through all those other planes of existence dragging a book like that around, but I don't know where else he could have gotten it so quickly."

Picard decided that if Wesley hadn't told her the book had come from Beverly's quarters he would abide by the decision.

They were both grateful to let the earlier awkward subject drop and move on to other things.

x~x

Deanna waited until they were all settled on the bridge the next morning to casually mention the flurry of calls she had received the night before from the parents of Rosemary's story group. She was pleased to report that after voicing some initial concerns about possible covert reasons for the Captain's presence, most went on to express their awe that he would take part in the session.

Picard permitted a brief round of teasing, mostly from his first officer, before he firmly closed the subject by requesting several unnecessary status reports from various bridge stations.

x~x

Three nights later, Picard again joined the story group, attired in civilian clothes as instructed, and bearing a well worn volume of French children's stories. Thanking him for the loan, Rosemary insisted that he be the first to read from it. The children chimed in, leaving him no way to gracefully decline.

He was a bit awkward at first, sitting cross-legged on the pillow that Rosemary had vacated. Less animated than his predecessor's style, his deep baritone kept the children enthralled nonetheless.

Rosemary was equally entranced, but for much more personal reasons.

-tbc-


	17. Chapter 17

Fleeting images of staff meetings prompted Rosemary to request permission to sit in on one.

Months of daily therapy with Judith had taught her a number of counselor's techniques which she put to use. She arrived in the Observation lounge early and stood by the windows until everyone else had been seated.

Picard at the head of the table seemed normal enough, as did Riker taking the place to the captain's left with Deanna, Worf and Dr. Selar in the next three seats. There appeared to be some confusion, however, on the other side of the table. Data and Geordi both looked at her for a long moment before they moved to chairs, the android on Picard's immediate right and the engineer beside him.

Geordi started to sit then turned to look at her again. "Are you going to lurk back there?" he asked with a grin. "Or would you rather get comfortable? There's plenty of room." He indicated the chair to his right. As she approached the table, he glanced down at the plum painted toenails that peeked out of the wide legs of her like colored trousers. "Just don't let me roll over your toes!"

"Thanks for the warning," she said, returning his smile. "I think I'll get them out of the way altogether." Tucking one foot under her as she sat, she pulled the other one up to rest on the edge of her chair, lacing her fingers together and wrapping her hands loosely around her raised knee.

It was a pose they had often seen Beverly assume - but never at a staff meeting.

Picard cleared his throat. He was completely nonplussed by the scene he had just witnessed... Geordi's teasing familiarity with Rosemary... her bare feet... not to mention her nonchalant attitude toward a staff meeting.

_'Damn it, Beverly! Why doesn't any of this mean anything to you?'_

Catching Deanna's sharp look, he went into 'Captain mode' and called the meeting to order.

Rosemary didn't pay much attention to the technical reports - that wasn't why she was here. Her main purpose was to watch Beverly's friends. Listening to the voices rather than the words, she let her mind wander.

Some time later, Deanna, sensing a vague confusion, turned to look at Rosemary.

She was looking at Data, her brow creased in concentration.

The others became aware of the counselor's interest, following her gaze to Rosemary then tracing that path to Data.

"What's on your mind, Rosemary?" Picard asked quietly.

The woman started slightly at the sound of her name, but she didn't reply, at least not directly. "Data, did Beverly teach you to dance?"

The question that had no apparent context wasn't unusual; they were growing used to this particular habit of Rosemary's. She always tried working things out on her own, but when she needed additional information she simply made the request, sort of an 'ask-the-question-deal -with-the-consequences' attitude - even when no one else knew what subject she was pondering at the time...

...and sometimes those subjects were very surprising.

"Yes, she did," Data replied. "It was in preparation for Miles and Keiko's wedding."

She frowned. "A wedding? That's not what I..." she broke off before she could make a fool of herself by contradicting a man with a perfect memory. "Well, it just doesn't seem like wedding dancing."

"Perhaps we should discuss this in private, Rosemary."

The others were mystified by Data's suggestion since the android was rarely reluctant to discuss anything with anyone. Rosemary, on the other hand, was pleased as always to see that irritating stare turned on someone else.

She shrugged, "I suppose we could, but I'd just have to tell Judith about our conversation later, and she would have to put in a report then soon everybody else would know anyway so we might as well save the effort."

Deanna leaned forward slightly. "It's probably not as private as you think, Data. We all know how much Beverly enjoys dancing."

"It's one of the few things that makes those official functions tolerable for the rest of us," Riker added with a grin.

"Possibly," Data conceded, "but this is something she chose to keep private."

"Private? We've known about her dancing for years," Geordi said.

"Are you talking about the tap dancing, Data?" Rosemary asked. As he nodded, she frowned once more in fresh puzzlement. "But why would she teach you that for a wedding?"

"Tap dancing?" Riker, Troi and La Forge made an odd sort of Greek chorus as they unintentionally spoke in unison.

The stare turned once again in Rosemary's direction, and she murmured a soft, "Damn," as she wished she had kept her mouth shut this once.

Since the conversation had gone this far - and the secret was out - Data answered the question. "It was due to a miscommunication on my part. When I discovered that dancing was an integral component of human wedding ceremonies, I searched the ship's personnel files and found that Dr. Crusher had won several prizes for tap and jazz dancing. She accepted my request for instruction; however, I neglected to inform her that it was for the wedding. It was not until our first lesson had been completed that the error was discovered. She did teach me several other styles that were appropriate for the wedding. Since then we have developed many holodeck scenarios together, using a variety of dance forms."

"The Dancing Doctor," Riker said with a chuckle, "I like it. She could build a whole act around a name like that... and do shows in Sickbay. That would cheer up the place."

Picard could remain silent no longer. "And would you then be expecting to give performances on the Bridge, billing yourself as 'Commander Trombone'?"

Knowing he had grossly overstepped, Riker's smile vanished under the Captain's stern question. "Sir, I didn't mean..."

"I understand, Number One," he said, heading off the unnecessary apology. "However, you are not the first person to come up with that nickname, and perhaps you now realize why she was reluctant to share that particular talent. Thank you, Mr. Data, for attempting to keep Beverly's confidence. I'm sure she told you that was precisely the reaction she preferred to avoid."

"Yes, sir. Dr. Crusher stated that many people seemed unwilling to accept that a doctor could dance or that a dancer could also be a competent doctor."

"It was a... bias... she had encountered on several occasions," Picard added with a sidelong glance at Riker, "and in time she decided it was easier to keep her abilities to herself."

The conversation continued as most of them had personal memories of Beverly dancing at social occasions - fending off young, hot-shot officers while charming ancient Starfleet admirals and alien ambassadors alike. Picard let it go on, hoping for a breakthrough that would prove more important than an interrupted staff meeting.

Rosemary's heart grew heavy as she listened to them, hearing the unmistakable affection they all held for Beverly. She couldn't even be angry with them. They had known Beverly for years and her for mere months... but that didn't make it hurt any less.

She couldn't take it anymore. Swinging her chair around, she rose in one swift motion and was half way to the door before any of them could react.

"Rosemary," Picard called, "what's wrong?"

The concern in his voice brought her up short, but her body trembled visibly with the effort not to run.

"I fight so hard to be me," she said without turning around, "because I know no one will remember me that way if Beverly comes back. I don't want to fade away. I want -" She broke off in exasperation. Swallowing hard, she tried again. "I want..." She stopped, not knowing what she wanted. With a groan of frustration, she stepped into the door sensor and fled.

"Geordi," Deanna cautioned as the engineer rose from his chair to follow her. "Let her go for now."

"I can't." The quiet contradiction startled his superior officers. "I grew up moving between different starbases and ships. I know what it feels like to be the new kid all the time when everybody is talking about old friends you never knew. I always told myself I would never do that to somebody else... but I just did. Besides, if we leave her alone every time she gets upset, that's what she's going to believe she is... alone. I'd rather have her mad at me for trying too hard than not trying at all." He left - and this time, no one wanted to stop him.

Stoically suppressing a sigh, Picard dismissed the meeting and pushed his chair away from the table. He exited the conference room, crossing the bridge without stopping as he headed straight for his Ready Room - and felt his first officer following hot on his heels. He had a fair idea of what was coming but opted to let Will state his case.

Riker, though not standing quite at attention, declined the offered chair as the captain settled into his own seat behind the desk.

"Sir, I want you to know that despite the joke I made, I have the utmost respect for Beverly - Dr. Crusher - as a person, as well as for her abilities as a doctor. I'm sorry that we never made her feel comfortable enough with us to share her other talents."

The option of letting the younger man suffer a bit longer as a favor to Beverly for the "Dancing Doctor" comment was considered briefly, but Picard knew she would have quickly accepted the sincere apology.

"I'm sure she knows how much you all care for her, but it's an old habit and a hard one to break." He paused until Will finally sat down. "One of the reasons behind her reluctance is that a very good friend of hers used the nickname every chance he got - and in the most embarrassing circumstances whenever possible."

"Doesn't sound like much of a friend if he knew she didn't like it," Riker noted, glad he had made the mistake only once.

Picard sought the right way to explain it. "Have you ever been in love with someone who was married to one of your best friends?" he asked finally. "You over-compensate in one of two ways - by becoming remote and formal or by treating her like a kid sister. Walker Keel chose the kid sister route, but he frequently took it too far, especially about her dancing. But then, that was one of the things he loved most... watching her dance."

Voice trailing off, he sat staring at nothing in particular, seeming to forget that there was anyone else in the room.

_'Is he remembering Walker Keel - or Beverly?'_ Whatever other intuitive abilities he might have lacked, Riker caught the underlying meaning of the statement and finally gained a small understanding of the relationship between the captain and the doctor.

x~x

**Geordi's instincts proved correct, and Rosemary was touched by the concern that had made him follow her to her quarters. Curled up in her favorite chair, she listened to his stories of what he went through as a child. It was reassuring to know that someone understood what she was feeling despite the dissimilar situations.**

x~x

When Data offered to show her some of the dance programs he had created with Beverly, Rosemary surprised everyone by agreeing. For her part, Rosemary found that she knew the steps and movements and this time she didn't seem to mind discovering one of Beverly's talents.

It proved to be an excellent outlet for her compulsive need to be in motion. For days, she put herself and Data through the most intricate and physically demanding routines available. Dr. Selar treated her for strained muscles, once in the holodeck and once in her quarters. As she left Rosemary's cabin after the second occurrence, the Vulcan doctor said that any future injuries would have to be treated in Sickbay.

It wasn't a threat by any means, but it achieved the desired result of making Rosemary set limits thereafter.

-tbc-


	18. Chapter 18

"La Forge to McKenna."

Judith started guiltily at the page that was scarcely audible above the music filling her quarters. Her tone deaf inability to carry a tune had never kept her from singing along with her favorites, but it had taken her Academy roommate to convince her - forcefully - not to inflict it on others.

She instructed the computer to lower the volume to 10%, leaving the lush, eternal sounds of Ella Fitzgerald simmering in the background.

"McKenna here. What's up, Geordi?"

"Rosemary is on her way to the transport center with Worf."

The news was surprising since she had seen the trio off less than two hours ago for a much anticipated shore leave. Rosemary hadn't left the ship in the seven months of her 'existence', and Judith had been pleased that she would have this opportunity for a new experience. Foreboding thrummed through her in time to her suddenly increased pulse as she tried not to speculate as to what might have transpired. "And?"

"And... it's probably a good idea for you to meet them when they beam up."

His tone reminded her of a teenager ready to admit responsibility for a foolish stunt somewhere in the mid-range of severity. She didn't care for the analogy.

"What happened?"

"This is one of the things Rosemary would want to tell you herself... but I think she should tell you now."

"I take it you will be joining us soon?"

It was phrased as a request, but he heard the directive behind it. "As soon as I... uh... finish here. La Forge out."

Judith left her quarters at a sedate pace, struggling against and irrational urge to run. Geordi was far from being an alarmist, which made his call all the more disturbing. _'What could have happened on a pleasant little planet like Aras II?'_

Originally colonized by Terran settlers more than a hundred years before, the M class planet had become a popular shore leave destination because of its striking similarity to Earth. Equally inviting to other races were the variety and scope of available options.

Her own trip to the surface for a few hours early in the day had been a welcomed respite from her demanding schedule. After a bit of research, Judith had chosen an agricultural province reminiscent of the area around her family's home in Michigan. A long walk through a grove of trees had cleansed her lungs of the recycled ship's air and cleared her mind of all thoughts of neuroses and psychoses. She had returned with a large stasis container bearing the dark red fruit that was comparable to the cherries her family had grown for generations. With a little self-discipline, she might be able to make them last until she could manage a trip home. Without it, she would have them polished off by bedtime.

The latter was by far the more likely outcome.

The pleasant memories were quickly forgotten when she arrived at her destination. Judith had to wait while the transporter chief sent down a group headed for the beach and retrieved a set of glacier hikers before she could quietly ask if Worf had requested a beam up.

"He and Rosemary are coming up next, Counselor."

Keying in the necessary commands, he and Judith watched the transfer begin - eyes widening and jaws dropping as the pair materialized on the pad.

There wasn't a mark on Worf, his mustard colored uniform as pristine as the moment he put it on that morning.

Rosemary, on the other hand, showed evidence of having been through a much closer encounter. Efforts to smooth her hair had been ineffective. Some sort of liquid had been spilled down the front of her dress, darkening the material from the waist almost to the hem around her ankles. Her right sleeve was ripped at the shoulder seam, and she tugged at it self- consciously as she stepped down.

"Have a good time?" Judith asked, making a pointed survey of her patient's dishabille.

"I know Worf didn't call you," Rosemary said with an approving, glance at the Klingon, "so Geordi must have. What did he tell you?"

"Only that this was a tale that you probably ought to tell sooner rather than later."

Rosemary paused, considering. "I can live with that."

"Well, then, let's go live in my office for a bit." Judith looked over her shoulder. "You, too, Mr. Worf."

The security chief followed silently in the women's wake. He liked therapy sessions even less than Rosemary.

x~x

Things had been going smoothly for several weeks. The Enterprise had completed two routine mapping missions and ferried a group of HQ dignitaries to a summit conference.

_'I should have recognized the lull for the warning sign it always seems to be,'_ Picard thought as he made his way through a cluster of personnel outside Transporter Room 2 awaiting their turn to beam down. Situations like this one often made him rue the need for shore leave. Infrequent as they were, they always seemed to come at the most inconvenient times or involve the most inopportune people - or both.

The transporter room door opened, and a dozen or so people spilled out into the corridor, Geordi La Forge among them.

One look at Picard's face told the engineer that word of Rosemary's 'exploits' had already reached the ship, and he could guess the source. "Ket works fast," he muttered to himself. Attempting to sidle away, he said to Picard, "Sir, I was just on my way -"

"To Counselor McKenna's office? Good, it will save me the trouble of sending for you. On the way, perhaps you would care to tell me just what the devil happened down there."

Resigned to his fate, La Forge fell into step beside the Captain for the short walk along the corridor to Judith's office.

x~x

As the door opened, the trio in Judith's office heard the end of Geordi's recitation.

"I was waiting at the bar for our drinks when Worf came in. We started talking and... well, the next thing we knew there was a crash, and people shouting. When we got there, she had DaiMon Ket shoved face down into the table." He quirked a smile in Rosemary's direction and received one in return. "Worf got her out while I tried to calm down Ket. I wasn't very successful."

Picard was unimpressed with the tale. He had known this wasn't a good idea when Geordi proposed it, but when he sought Judith's support, she had taken the other side. Why couldn't they see that on the Enterprise, Rosemary was safe, but there were too many unpredictable possibilities away from the security of the ship?

Beverly had gone on shore leave and...

He stiffened at the unfinished thought. So did his resolve to talk to Troi about removing Judith McKenna from the case as she was clearly unable to handle it. He wasn't overly concerned by the irate call he had received from Ket. Rantings about Ferengi retribution were always for show owing to the simple fact that there would be no profit in it, and the Ferengi valued profit above all else.

"Gentlemen," his sweeping gaze included the now-at-attention Worf, "I approved your excursion today on the sole condition that you would keep an eye on Rosemary. Putting her in a position to have to physically defend herself most certainly does not fulfill that stipulation."

Worf started to speak, but Rosemary beat him to it.

"Do you personally authorize all shore leave, or did I require special dispensation?"

Picard glared momentarily at the counselor where she sat beside the fuming redhead. "I will talk to you about the incident, Rosemary, but..."

"But nothing," Rosemary interrupted as she scrambled to her feet. Picard involuntarily backed up half a step when she stopped in front of him. **I** was the one in the fight, you talk to **me** about it!"

The captain wasn't used to being confronted in such a public manner, at least not by a member of his crew, and he regretted his blunder for not insisting that this meeting take place in his Ready Room. Here, he felt less in control of the situation. "The altercation should not have happened in the first place."

Rosemary rolled her eyes at his stilted phrasing. _'He can be so damned pompous sometimes.'_ Aloud she said, "You're very probably right, although I don't see how you think it could be their fault..." She broke off as she saw the furtive glances that passed between the three men.

Suspicion barely had time to blossom before she had the answer. "I did have to get special dispensation, didn't I?" Now the looks were openly guilty. "Geordi, did you ask me to go with you before or after you talked to the Captain?"

Geordi cleared his throat trying to delay the inevitable outburst. "After," he said finally. He could tell he wasn't going to get an opportunity to mention that it was simply at matter of timing that put him in contact with Picard first, and he had used it to find out if the captain had already made shore leave plans with Rosemary.

Blue eyes filled with anger and hurt turned on Picard. "Did you discuss it with Judith before agreeing?"

"Yes, but I merely..."

She ignored him as she turned, firing her next question at Judith. "Was Worf's participation a condition for getting your approval?"

"Yes," the counselor replied, offering neither an explanation nor an excuse. She knew her patient well - this fury would burn out as quickly as it had ignited. It was the fallout that could be the real problem.

Obviously fighting the urge to lash out at all of them, Rosemary took several deep breaths trying to calm herself as her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. There was a touch of sadness in her eyes when she looked up, her words surprising everyone.

"Thank you for inviting me, Geordi. I had a good time."

"Not including the last part?" Geordi grinned in spite of the captain's stern countenance.

The momentary sadness vanished as she giggled impishly at the mental image of Ket's face mashed into the table. "No, I rather enjoyed putting that little troll in his place."

Shocked by Rosemary's terminology, Picard interjected stiffly, "DaiMon Ket is not a troll, he is a Ferengi."

His attempt to regain control of the situation was in vain.

"Fine," Rosemary acquiesced coolly, "if the next one I meet keeps his hands to himself, I'll be glad to call him a Ferengi." Shrugging a single slim shoulder that caused the ripped seam to flap impertinently, she added, "Ket, on the other hand, behaved like a troll, so that's what he is. At least, he inadvertently helped me show Judith that she doesn't have to be so protective."

"I apologize for not checking your self-defense skill levels before I requested that Mr. Worf accompany you. Quite frankly, I never thought about," Judith admitted. Both women smiled, but only one saw the Captain's scowl deepen. Given that she could feel the captain's growing irritation at the jovial turn the conversation had taken, Judith was silently grateful that Deanna didn't have to suffer through it.

"Ah yes, Mr. Worf." Rosemary turned to the tall Klingon who stood next to Geordi. "I'm especially sorry they dragged you into this."

Worf frowned in puzzlement. "I do not understand..."

"Look," she cut in hurriedly, "I know you don't like me very much. They should have realized it, too, and left you out of it. It was wrong of them to make you baby-sit me - which I didn't need in the first place." She gave the others a stern look then added, "I hope they will have the courtesy not to impose on you in the future. Thank you for giving up your shore leave."

"May I point out that there is a potential diplomatic incident brewing here?" Picard snapped. He was overstating the case, but he wasn't about to let this slide.

"Do you really believe Ket wants everyone to know he was rejected and bested by a woman? Even in my limited experience male egos are the same no matter what the species." Her eyes narrowed. "Speaking of male egos, are you really upset about Ket or because you were obviously out voted about letting me go at all?"

The dig hit closer to home than he cared to admit, and he found himself firing back. "Out voted? If you think this is some sort of democracy -"

"I didn't say it was, but you do listen to what the others have to say. So the question still stands... are you angry about Ket or the fact the no one agreed with you that I shouldn't leave the ship?"

"I am not the focus of this discussion," he snapped, attempting to return to his original point. "As a Starfleet officer, you know that any encounter could result in a diplomatic -"

"Stop right there because you're wrong on both counts. Beverly is a Starfleet officer, not me, and I don't give a damn about your precious diplomacy because no one," she leaned in almost nose to nose with him as she ground out, "**no one** touches me when I don't want it. Not any of you and most certainly not that... that... that Ferengi!" She stepped back, putting distance between them, literally and figuratively. "It's clear that you've already made up your mind, so do whatever you think you have to do."

Not waiting for an answer, she turned and sailed out the door. After a silent dismissal from Picard, Geordi and Worf followed in her wake.

Judith watched them leave, and then squared her shoulders in preparation for the next round.

Picard didn't waste any time. "Counselor, do you now understand why I objected to Rosemary going down to Aras II?"

"No, sir, because the odds of something going wrong were just about as astronomical as they were for a Ferengi to have behaved in a manner so far out of character."

Her even tone was a clear indicator that she was handling this better than he was, and it sent the definite message that she wasn't going to be intimidated without a damn good reason. Backing off without backing down, she continued, "And even though both of those things did happen, Rosemary had a good time. It's what she's been wanting - a lot of strangers who didn't expect her to be anything other than what they saw. There's everything right about that and nothing wrong with it."

He stared at her incredulously then barked, "Nothing wrong? She was attacked!"

"She was accosted, and she dealt with it."

"And her way of dealing with it could have dragged the Enterprise into a very ugly incident."

Despite wanting to scream in frustration at his tunnel vision of the situation, she said, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

He nodded, wondering why she was bothering to ask. She had been doing enough of it without requesting the authorization.

"She's been Rosemary for nearly eight months, why are you still expecting her to behave like Beverly?"

She continued quickly before he could form a denial. "Captain, I understand that your long friendship with Dr. Crusher makes it difficult to accept the differences between her and Rosemary, but they are rather significant. Please keep in mind that Rosemary is unlikely to respond to situations the way Beverly would. By years of conditioning, Starfleet ranks and protocols have created specific parameters for Beverly's behavior, but to Rosemary, they are at best only peripherally relevant."

"Peripherally relevant?"

"She has essentially created her own autonomous domain within the structure of the Enterprise. Aside from occasionally acknowledging you as the captain, she treats everyone exactly the same. No ensign on this ship is any less to her than you or Commander Riker. I expect that at some point she will apologize for losing her temper, but I doubt you'll ever hear any remorse for what she did to Ket."

The final assessment he could agree with. "I can answer the question you asked a moment ago, at least as far as it pertains to this situation. I began to expect Beverly-type behavior because Rosemary acted exactly the way Beverly would have. She might have tried a bit more talking with Ket, but if he didn't get the message, it's very likely that Beverly would have 'dealt' with it the same way."

"I think you're partially right, but I'll come back to that. Let's look at the sequence of events. Rosemary is dealing with a lot of new experiences and emotions right now. This ship is literally the only world she has ever known, and today was her first time away from the security of that world. Think about it... everyone on this ship has been a minimum of three places - home, the Academy and the Enterprise. Not Rosemary. This is all she knows." In a purely counselor's move, Judith took a seat on the sofa motioning for him to join her. She, of course, did not fail to notice the significance of the fact that he sat in the chair opposite her. "Do you remember the first time you ever left your home, sir?"

Picard smiled at the instant recollection. "Indeed. I was nine. My parents took me and my brother to Paris for a holiday."

"What do you remember most?"

"Two things... the last day, I got lost in Montmartre and met my first real, live Starfleet officer. I was too ecstatic over getting my questions about space answered to be afraid at not knowing where my family was."

Given what she knew about the Captain, Judith wasn't surprised that he remembered being a young child lost in a large city as a positive experience.

"Well, aside from being separated from her companions as you were, Rosemary's experience was rather different. She knew Geordi was just across the room at the bar, yet she was essentially alone in a strange place. In those few moments, she was accosted by a species she had never seen before. It's probably a good thing that she had no way of knowing the aggressiveness he displayed was unusual in a Ferengi. When things got physical, the survival instinct kicked in, and she defended herself."

Judith leaned forward. "Now, there she is, feeling pretty good about herself, but when she gets back here, she's called on the carpet for it. I'd be willing to bet she's more than a little peeved that you talked to Geordi first."

"I can accept my part in all this," Picard conceded with a tug at his uniform top, "but it does seem that her anger at me is rather out of proportion."

Judith agreed with him and thought she had an explanation. She chose her words carefully. "Sir, the two of you have spent a good deal of time together over the last few months. It's possible that she was hoping you would ask her to spend the day with you. If that's the case, then I believe she may be turning her disappointment into anger as a way of avoiding what's really bothering her."

The ghost of a smile chased across his face. "It wouldn't be the first time. Beverly has a habit of doing that as well." His smile vanished as he recalled the simple equation that the more fiery the anger, the deeper the problem. "Do you have a guess as to what might be bothering her?"

"Although she defended herself, I believe the incident with Ket may have set off something else inside her. She said 'no one touches me when I don't want it'." Judith paused, hoping that Picard would catch on and prepare himself before she made her next statement aloud. "We know that the Egelloc physically tortured Beverly before turning to the memory manipulation. Since nothing similar has happened to Rosemary until today, she may unconsciously be recalling Beverly's experience. All her dreams to this point have been of her inflicting pain. We could begin to see her response to physical abuse that she suffered." Her sigh was an unconscious underscoring of her dread of the grim prospect.

Picard was having an equally hard time maintaining his own professional detachment. The conversation was disturbing enough, but when it concerned his best friend... He retreated behind his 'Captain's mask' and asked, "And how would that response manifest itself?"

"That will depend on the situation." She picked up a padd and began entering notes as she talked. "Rosemary may begin to display an aversion to casual touching, even with the people closest to her. The more unexpected the contact, the more intense the reaction is likely to be. For her, the emotional retreat will be as important as the physical one, so angry outbursts similar to what we saw today will be the most likely manifestation with the people closest to her."

She saw the silent inquiry in his eyes. "If she's talking to someone and takes a step back, they may take a step forward. If she yells and then steps back, the other person is more likely to stay where they are, or back away as well. It could reach a point that she might unconsciously but deliberately provoke arguments in order to widen her personal space. We're going to be walking a fine line between allowing her that space and not letting her retreat to a point where we can't reach her."

Having dealt with a half Betazoid counselor for so many years, Picard was under the mistaken impression that the despair he was feeling wasn't apparent to the fully human woman he was facing at the moment. "I'm obviously no expert, counselor, but I don't see this situation getting any better."

_'He can give diplomacy any amount of time necessary to develop,'_ Judith thought, _'this he wants resolved yesterday. I wonder if he gives Beverly this kind of trouble?'_

She gave him an encouraging smile. "Captain, the moment she stopped trying to run away we made progress. Accepting quarters, allowing us to call her Rosemary, taking it upon herself to explore the ship, getting to know people, continuing therapy - those were all improvements. Anything that lets us get close enough to help her is reason for hope. Even the setbacks teach us how to handle the next hurdle. It may look like it's going slowly, but I promise you, I have no intention of failing with this patient."

"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. With a short nod, he left the counselor's office.

He was half way back to the Bridge before he remembered that he had stormed down there with every intention of having her removed from Rosemary's case.

-tbc-


	19. Chapter 19

Upon returning to her cabin, Rosemary had moved - her therapist would have said hurled - all her story time pillows to a spot under the windows, using the effort to burn off the last remnants of her anger.

She knew she owed Jean-Luc an apology for her outburst... what she didn't know was how he always managed to set her off that way. That niggling thought had been deftly avoided by going into the bedroom to change out of her torn dress.

Now she lay sprawled on her stomach across the multicolored mound, chewing on the end of an artist's pencil. The new design she was working on was supposed to be a gift for Judith, but at the moment, Rosemary wasn't sure how pleased she should be with the counselor's 'help'. That was probably why the detailing on the skirt was giving her such trouble.

A sound from the open doorway broke her already wandering concentration. Looking up, she was surprised to see Worf standing there. She smiled brightly at him as she sat up. "Hi, Worf, come on in."

He entered the cabin, seeming to grow more ill at ease with every step. "I don't want to disturb your work."

"You're not. In fact, you're just the distraction I need to keep me from tearing up this..." she waved the sketch pad at him in exaggerated frustration, "this... thing... and starting over. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

The Klingon felt foolish, towering over her, but she clearly had no intention of getting up. She had changed clothes, he was relieved to see, although he wouldn't have been surprised if she had still been wearing her torn outfit. She had seemed almost proud of every rip and tear.

Recognizing his problem, she pulled a large, square pillow from the pile and slid it over to him. "Have a seat." He held himself so stiffly that she was curious to find out if he could actually bend enough to accept her invitation.

Worf's predicament was greater than she realized. He had been genuinely startled by Rosemary's supposition that he didn't like her. The truth was that he quite simply didn't know how to treat her. To a Klingon, one was either an ally or an enemy. Like and dislike was irrelevant.

As Dr. Crusher, she was a superior officer who had earned his respect, but even playing poker with her was a relaxing of command lines that he had been hard pressed to accept. As Rosemary, she had no rank, but he couldn't forget that she was Dr. Crusher, and therefore, he had no frame of reference for dealing with her.

"Are you going to stand there and stew, or are you going to sit down?"

With a grunt, he grudgingly lowered himself to sit awkwardly on the corner of the pillow.

Rosemary smiled happily at his compliance. This was the first time she had been alone with Worf - except for the trip from the bar to the transport center which hadn't lent itself to conversation. "The dark purple of that pillow is a good color for you. It suits your personality, too."

"Why?" As soon as the word was spoken, Worf felt a flash of irritation at being drawn into a conversation over something as trifling as the color of a pillow.

"In many cultures, that color is reserved for royalty."

"I am a warrior, not a king." It didn't occur to him to ask how she knew about the 'many cultures'.

She hid a smile because she did note that he said king, not bothering with any lesser nobility. "No, but they are both leaders. You have the personal pride and self-esteem that inspires respect from troops or subjects." She watched him frown at her praise even as he sat a little bit straighter because of it. Turning to a new page in her sketchbook, her pencil danced across the paper. Broad strokes were quickly followed by shorter, more defining lines. "Do you respect the captain of this ship?" she asked, casting quick, appraising glances at him.

Curiosity about the drawing that he couldn't quite see made following the thread of the conversation difficult. "Yes, but..."

"But," she interrupted, "would you respect the captain as much if he were not Jean-Luc Picard?"

Reluctant to concede the perceptiveness of her statement, he hedged, "Possibly not."

"Captain or king," Rosemary said, still drawing, "deference to the rank is due no matter who holds it. Respect and loyalty are earned by the people who truly deserve it - and that includes people who hold no rank at all."

"Is that why you believe I don't like you?" he asked, gleaning some insight of his own.

Rosemary's pencil skipped on the page, and she tried to appear casual as she removed the errant mark left by her ill-concealed astonishment at the question. Having observed his reluctance to deal with any form of emotion, it amazed her that her statement about his not liking her had made any impression at all.

"It does seem that way," she admitted slowly. "I know it... bothers you when I come to the poker game or if you see me talking to Geordi and the others. But as I was saying, respect has to be earned." She set the sketchpad aside, but didn't look at him. "As a doctor, Beverly had a defined place here. I, on the other hand, don't really do much more than take up space..."

Her voice trailed off. It was one thing to feel that way, but it somehow sounded more pitiful to say it out loud. Softly, she added, "People don't know how to treat me. You won't even call me by my name."

Worf tried to fill the awkward silence that followed with an explanation that seemed necessary. "I have never referred to Dr. Crusher by anything but her title."

The despised comparison was the one consistent flash point for her temper. "I am not Beverly!" she snapped. Irritated by her loss of control, she lowered her voice. "Look, I don't have a title or a rank, and I only have one name - Rosemary. I don't have much, but the name is mine. When people won't, or can't, call me by my name, I feel the same way I did that first time I woke up in Sickbay... like I'm nothing."

A soft growl rumbled from the back of Worf's throat at her statement. Personal history was an integral part of Klingon life, and 'son of Mogh' was as much of who he was as his own name. The blankness of a name unconnected to anything or anyone was an anathema to him. The gravity of his error in continuing to think of her as Dr. Crusher - complete with her past - was compounded by the fact that he had no idea how to correct it.

Realizing she was waiting for a response, he clutched at the first one that came to mind. "Whether I use your name or not, whether I like you or not is irrelevant... Rosemary. Your security on the starbase was my responsibility."

Knowing there was some subtext she was missing, she gave him points for trying and followed the conversation on its new tack. "But you were supposed to be on leave. They shouldn't have asked you do give up the time you had earned."

"I chose to do it. I do not believe I have been as useful as the others in assisting in your recovery. I welcomed taking on the duty that would allow you some time away from the ship. I failed in that duty by leaving you to defend yourself against DaiMon Ket."

Rosemary felt it was her duty to point out something he seemed to have overlooked. "Actually," she said, "Geordi was the one who left me alone." Puffing out her chest in exaggerated pride, she added, "I think I handled myself rather well, don't you?"

"That is not the point..." Worf countered.

"Would you be making this fuss I was Beverly?" It surprised her when he lowered his eyes. "Do you think you somehow failed Beverly because she had to fight the Egelloc on her own?"

He didn't reply to that, knowing as she did that his remorse was irrational.

Reaching out, she laid her hand on his, waiting until he looked at her. "You didn't really leave me on my own. It was your Mok'bara moves that I used to fend off that little troll, Ket." She shivered dramatically, but her tone grew serious as she continued, "Offering a proposition is one thing, but people really should accept a polite 'no' for an answer, regardless of their species." She looked up to find Worf staring at her. "What?"

"You remember the Mok'bara classes?"

"Mok... 'bara?" Rosemary now stumbled over the word that she hadn't been aware of using a moment ago. "Did I say that? Hmm... anyway, he... he came at me, and I just reacted."

"That is how it should be," Worf said, nodding approvingly. This he could understand, and he was eager to hear her account of the 'battle'. "Which move did you use?"

"Which one?" she repeated in confusion. "I don't know. I told you, I just reacted."

Getting to his feet, Worf offered her a hand up. "Show me."

Rosemary frowned, finding it difficult to remember precisely. "He made some comment about the way human males let their females wear clothes, and I told him he couldn't handle me - with or without my clothes." She smiled inwardly at Worf's huff of embarrassment. "When he wouldn't go away, I decided to go find Geordi. Ket grabbed my wrist..." she hesitated, trying to remember. "He pulled... I felt my sleeve tear... it happened so fast." Her last words were a whisper as she stared at some vision that didn't include the large Klingon standing before her.

What he saw was something he had wished never to see again. The fear in her eyes had been there before - in a dank, disgusting cell on Dakar 6. Cautiously he reached out, letting his fingertips brush her shoulder. "Rosemary?"

She gradually refocused on the present and her guest. "Sorry about that. I was feeling pretty proud for defending myself, then I just felt... dirty." She bit her lip, wondering where that description had come from. "Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Perhaps it would help if you could remember exactly what happened. Tell me again. What happened first?"

"Ket grabbed my arm."

Rosemary flinched slightly when Worf wrapped his large left hand around her slim right arm. "Like this?"

"No, the other one..."

He moved his hand to her left arm.

"No, the way you did it before but the other side."

Her left wrist was encircled in the firm grip of his right hand.

"Then he pulled..."

They walked through it slowly two more times but could progress no further because she wasn't sure about any of the rest of it.

Rosemary was waiting for him to suggest that they try it yet again when he suddenly grabbed her arm more tightly than before and jerked her towards him. Moments later, she was still unclear as to how she did it, but Worf was getting a close up view of her dining table as she twisted his arm up behind his back.

"I did it!" she cried with elation. Abruptly, her face crinkled in puzzlement. "What did I do?"

"What is going on here?" Picard's voice boomed from the doorway.

Momentarily startled by the interruption, Rosemary's smile returned as she released the Klingon's arm. "I'm making friends with Worf."

"Friends don't assault each other."

Her pleasure at the small accomplishment melted under the flash fire of her temper at the Captain's rebuke.

"I don't know as much about other species as you do," came her haughty reply, "but that would rather depend on the people involved, wouldn't it? For your information, we were discussing the... the 'altercation' I had with Ket." Her deliberate, mocking use of his earlier phrasing was a stinging chastisement. "Everything happened so fast that I don't remember it clearly. We were trying to figure it out. Worf was pleased that I used something called Mok'bara moves -"

She broke off, struggling furiously to rein in her temper before she owed him an apology for something else. She settled for one last jab as she flounced over to sit in her chair by the window. "I don't know why I'm explaining any of this to you. What I do in my own quarters is my business, even if I do leave the door open."

Picard was well aware that he had overreacted. To his disgust, his words and tone carried the echo of his own domineering father. It was yet another transgression for which he now had to make amends.

He put on his most engaging smile. "It is my business if you damage my chief of Security, but I apologize for the brusqueness of my question. Did you make any progress with your re-enactment?"

Rosemary stared at him for a long moment, unwilling to accept his contrition so easily. At last she shrugged, saying, "Worf will have to tell you that because I'm still not sure what I did."

"Well, Mr. Worf? I'm sure Rosemary will be pleased if you can fill in some of the blanks."

Standing not quite at attention, Worf gave a succinct accounting of their re-enactment efforts, noting that it was a 'surprise attack' which led to the breakthrough that had culminated in the final scene Picard witnessed.

"The moves were quick and efficiently executed," he said in conclusion. "Her actions brought honor to herself and to the Enterprise. Rosemary has the heart of a warrior."

Both his listeners heard the slight emphasis on her name, but only one of them appreciated its significance.

x~x

Rosemary was touched and honored to receive a personal invitation from Worf to join his Mok'bara class. Much like the dancing, the practiced moves were subconsciously available for her to draw on. Her instructor did, however, have to accept one change. While she had no problem wearing the traditional outfit itself, she emphatically refused to wear it in plain white. They were able to reach a compromise which kept her in pale pastel colors. Her pink or lavender or yellow caused faint envy amongst her classmates who didn't have the nerve to follow her lead, not even when Worf appeared in his own specially created ensemble - in the deep purple of royalty.

Those classes led to memories of Beverly's private lessons in the use of the bat'telh. Again, the memories were there, though less reflexive as he and Beverly hadn't been working together as long.

The burgeoning friendship developing between Rosemary and Worf was nearly destroyed as nightmares descended upon her.

This time there was no warning, no nights of vaguely disturbing but unremembered dreams before the dam broke. The nightmares slammed into her full force, in vivid, terrifying detail. Images of using primitive medical tools on the defenseless man filled her dreams and his howls of pain and fury echoed in her mind long after she awoke.

The process of defeating the nightmares and re-establishing the friendship was complicated by the simple variable of adding a Klingon to the mix. Human emotions had long confused Worf, which created difficulties during the counseling sessions with Judith and Rosemary that hadn't occurred before. Finding a new middle ground was also slowed by the fact that Rosemary and Worf had less of a foundation to rebuild on than she had with the others.

It was Worf's suggestion that Rosemary return to the Mok'bara classes that turned the trick. It had been their first connection, and it became so again. She began at the back of the class, slowly moving up row by row as the tension between them eased.

-tbc-


	20. Chapter 20

Rosemary watched through her lashes, trying not to be obvious. Jean-Luc moved from the from the cabinet to the couch, set the glasses and brandy bottle on the table and tugged on the bottom of his tunic before he sat down. He carried himself with confidence, but there was an underlying hint of caution.

She liked the way he moved. In fact, she liked pretty much everything about him. He had seemed so reserved in the beginning, but that had faded quickly as they spent more time together. Jean-Luc wasn't as open as Will, yet she found herself drawn more to his quiet strength rather than to the first officer's ebullience.

Breakfasts had led to lunches then to dinners, in his quarters or in Ten Forward, and they had yet to run out of conversation. He never pestered her as to where she might have learned about this or that, which said something for his restraint since their subject matter ranged far and wide. The lateness of the hour and plain exhaustion were usually the reasons they finally went their separate ways after an evening together. She enjoyed discovering his sense of humor and his deep concern for his crew.

A soft smile lit her face as she recalled the last story group he had attended. They had gotten very little reading done as he spent most of the time talking to the children, asking questions, learning about their lives. She had seen the wistful look in his eyes as each one left with their parents.

Her heart fluttered at the memory - as it did so many times when she thought about him. Was this what falling in love felt like? It was a very nice feeling.

She thought he seemed rather startled when he turned around but dismissed it as her imagination.

It wasn't.

Jean-Luc had spent the evening with Rosemary, dining, talking, feeling very comfortable. But when he turned from the cabinet to see her sitting in the corner of the couch, shoes off, feet tucked under her - _just like Beverly_ - it had shaken him to the core.

He tried to continue as though nothing had happened but it was a struggle. His heart ached with loss... and guilt. Had he actually forgotten Beverly? Had he adapted so well that he had allowed Rosemary to replace her? Had the anomaly become the norm?

Pouring the brandy, handing her a glass, sitting back in a vain attempt to relax... all were done with little conscious thought as too many other thoughts crowded his head.

He jumped slightly when Rosemary touched his arm. "Where did you drift off to? I'd like to hear more about your brother."

More things suddenly seemed jarringly out of place as he looked at her. Beverly would never have let her hand linger on his arm like this, however much he wished she would, and she already knew about Robert. Jean-Luc hadn't realized until now that he was essentially repeating himself.

The stare didn't bother her as much now. She saw it so many times a day from so many people, it had lost its power to terrify her. Still, it could be annoying on occasion, and Rosemary suddenly felt the need to give him something to stare about - something she had been wanting to do for a couple of weeks.

She leaned in and kissed him.

Jean-Luc responded instantly, cupping her face in his hand to draw her closer. He had been searching for Beverly, and some vague hope sparked within him as he tried to find her this way. It flared brighter as she slanted her mouth over his to deepen the kiss.

He felt her soft hand drift up his chest to curl around his neck, but it was her small moan that brought him to his senses, making him realize his mistake. No matter what Rosemary's actions were saying, this was not Beverly's choice. He gently pulled away murmuring, "Rosemary, we can't do this."

Dazed by the swell of emotions brought on by her action, she felt bereft when he broke the kiss, and it took a moment for his words to register. When they did, they confused her. "Why not? This has been between us ever since that first day on the holodeck. I'm almost certain you wanted to kiss me then, and you sure as hell kissed me just now. Why is this wrong?"

Searching his face, she found the answer he had tried to hide. Pain and disappointment twisted her heart, but she didn't want him to know that so she turned it into anger. "It's Beverly, isn't it? You were kissing me and thinking of her. You wanted to be kissing her. You stopped because I'm not her!

Jean-Luc accepted her anger, knowing he deserved it after his less than honorable actions. He watched her pace, twisting her hands together when she wasn't flailing them in the air as she spoke.

"No wonder Will laughed when I thought I might be breaking up his romance with Beverly. It wasn't him at all," she sneered derisively, "it was you, wasn't it? That's why you've spent so much time with me, to be with her. I don't mean anything to you. I'm not her, but I'm as close as you can get so you'll put up with it."

He rose, blocking her path.

She stopped short, almost stumbling into him, then backed away. Getting around him would take more effort - and contact - than she was willing to make at the moment.

Moving cautiously, he took her hand, holding it in both of his the way he had on the holodeck. "That's not true. I do like you, Rosemary, but as much as you might want to believe it, you and Beverly are not separate people. You are parts of a whole. The simplest things you do - walking, talking - much less dancing or playing poker... those are all things Beverly learned."

Rosemary began to interrupt, proclaim her individuality, but he squeezed her hand to stop her. "Beverly's actions throughout her life have dictated the way you are living now, just as your actions will affect her future. When this is all over, you will not 'fade away'. Your experiences, your life will become part of Beverly's history."

"Too bad she didn't think about all that before she got on that damned freighter!" Rosemary mumbled, blinking back angry tears.

Jean-Luc felt his heart begin to pound, and it wasn't because of the argument. "What freighter? Is that how you left Su'dara?" She turned away, but he caught her shoulders, pulling her back to face him. "What freighter?"

Jerking free, she shouted, "Let me go! I'm not Beverly! I don't know what she did, and I don't care! I'm sick of you and everybody else badgering me, poking through my mind trying to find Beverly!"

Her stomach churned, knowing they were always going to want Beverly more than her, no matter how hard she tried to make a place for herself. "She's not here, and you're stuck with me. If you don't like it, that's too damn bad!" Tears streaming down her face, she hurried from his quarters.

Jean-Luc went after her, but as she disappeared around the curve, he stopped, not wanting to upset her further by creating a scene in the corridor. It took only a moment's deliberation to decide what to do next.

He knew Rosemary was going to consider it breach of her request not to carry tales to Counselor McKenna, but his overprotective instincts won out. Returning to his cabin, he contacted Judith to advise her of the situation.

x~x

Judith was surprised when Rosemary arrived on time for her session the next morning. In the past, events like the night before had always sent her into seclusion for at least a day. Judith tried to sound casual as they settled into their seats. "Did you have breakfast with the Captain this morning?"

"Only Beverly has amnesia." Rosemary sniffed indignantly. "I remember my life quite clearly. I know full well that he called you after what happened last night! He had to tell you... wouldn't have been able to help himself! He probably thinks he's doing some sort of penance by telling you that he 'upset' me again."

Filing the interesting character analysis away for future study, Judith asked instead, "What did happen?"

"Please, we've been doing this far too long for you to play the innocent with me that way. I know he gave you a detailed description. The man is scrupulously fair-minded, and is oh-so-gallantly trying to take the blame for upsetting me." Anger and disappointment vied for priority in her voice. Talking wasn't enough of a release, and she was on her feet pacing. "Well, it was his fault. I'm not good enough for anybody on this ship, and I can't do anything about that."

Judith started to reply but hesitated as she saw an idea come to her patient. Rosemary's expression changed from consideration... to decision... to resolution.

She stopped in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. "I want to leave the Enterprise."

It was an option Judith hadn't anticipated. "Why?" she asked, stalling for time to gather her thoughts.

"I want to go some place where people won't be trying so hard to turn me into someone else." Rosemary tilted her chin, gearing up for a fight.

The counselor knew she had to tread carefully. "There are other facilities, of course. You should understand, however, that the basics of your situation wouldn't change, no matter where you go. You are Beverly Crusher. You have amnesia. That is a treatable condition that will be considered resolved when your memory is completely restored... or at least the majority of it. That means no matter where you go, or who you are with, they will be trying to reach the part of you that is Beverly."

Her belligerence faded as swiftly as it had formed. "What if I don't want to be cured?" she muttered sulkily, returning to her place on the couch. "Why can't I just be me?"

"Because you and Beverly are not separate people. You are parts of a whole."

"That's what he said."

"Did he also tell you that the crew genuinely likes many of the new aspects you've brought out and hopes that at least some of them remain once you are recovered?"

She looked skeptical. "We didn't exactly get that far. I thought Beverly was so perfect. Why do they want even part of me to stick around?"

"Beverly is far from perfect, but she is respected and admired and loved. They think devotion to duty is fine, but not when it becomes all consuming. They like the idea of Beverly being able to truly relax, kick her shoes off..." she looked pointedly at the pair of shoes lying haphazardly under the coffee table, "so to speak."

Rosemary flushed slightly and tucked her bare feet further under her, out of sight.

"Have you had any dreams about Captain Picard?"

The question was so far off the subject that Rosemary was unable to hide her reaction. She shuddered involuntarily as vivid, malevolent images filled her mind. With a ragged breath, she clamped down on the emotions surging within her. She couldn't tell if it was a mental trick of Beverly's seeping through, but she had found it very useful since her nightmares had begun. "You've heard about all my dreams from Data. If I had dreamed about the Captain, he would have told you."

"Only if you told Data about them."

"There's nothing to tell," she insisted a bit too emphatically. Once more unable to sit still, she rose and began to roam around the room.

Judith remembered the prisoner analogy Riker had told her about and had to agree with him. "Rosemary, the Egelloc created memories involving all the people closest to Beverly. Why wouldn't they include Captain Picard?"

"I'm not an Egelloc. I don't know how they think. Maybe the captain just isn't as important to Beverly as you believe." The suggestion was made with absolutely no conviction. Her growing agitation drew her pacing into tighter circles, each one edging closer to the door.

Well aware of her patient's penchant for flight when she was feeling cornered, Judith tried to get one or two more points across. "Do you believe that Beverly doesn't care about him? That the Egelloc searched her mind and found nothing about the Captain?"

"I don't know!" she shouted. "I don't know! I'm going to wear a sign just so I can stop repeating myself! I don't know what Beverly thinks or how she feels about anyone or anything!" She turned to leave but was stopped by Judith's quiet voice.

"Rosemary, you've already discovered that you can't escape the memories or the dreams. The harder you try to run away, the harder they hit when they catch up to you."

"I'm not running _from_ anything."

"Then what are you running _to_?"

This time, when Rosemary bolted for the door, Judith didn't try to stop her. She knew that Rosemary would face the dreams sooner or later... probably sooner after last night's events.

x~x

Rosemary did not go to Data that night - or the next - or any night after that.

A week passed, then another.

She began to avoid her regular counseling sessions, using the excuse that the Captain had promised her no one would force her to do anything she didn't want to do. When she did go, she refused to talk about dreams, new or old.

While she didn't mind invoking the captain's name to get out of her counseling sessions, Rosemary hadn't seen Picard since the debacle over the kiss. She had read all his messages, but did not reply to them. The few times he contacted her over the comm system, she was coolly polite in refusing all his invitations to meet face to face.

Noticeably withdrawn around other people, she was spending more and more time alone. The door to her cabin was now closed more often, and when it was open, there were fewer invitations for people to come in. Story time continued, the children being the only people with whom Rosemary seemed to feel at ease. They asked about Picard but accepted her flimsy explanation that he was busy.

Her appetite had decreased as well, by all reports. At the end of the second week, Judith was concerned enough by Rosemary's now visible weight loss to begin running a daily check on her replicator log. A sufficient amount of food was being ordered, albeit irregularly, but she couldn't be certain how much of it was being eaten.

A change in tactics was made. When Rosemary refused to attend a session, Judith would ask to meet her in Ten Forward for something to eat. Many of those 'sessions' were spent in silence, but Rosemary ate.

x~x

Picard passed along Rosemary's irate mention of a freighter, which gave Worf a new trail to follow. Given that freighters serving Su'dara outnumbered passenger ships 5 to 1, the tracking project was a slow one.

It took him nearly a week to account for all the freighters that had stopped at Su'dara when Dr. Crusher was there.

All but one.

He finally located Captain Solya's name on the list of dead left behind by the Egelloc on Dakar 6. No trace of the captain's ship, the Keldysh, was ever found.

Solving the mystery of how Beverly left Su'dara wasn't as satisfying as any of them had hoped it might be.

x~x

"Based on the pattern established over the last months, I would guess that this is the last, most intense set of 'memories'. She's fighting extremely hard to keep them from surfacing." Judith watched the man behind the Ready Room desk, judging the impact of her words.

This case had brought her in close contact with the senior staff, and they had accepted her, made her part of the group. Her estimation of his emotional status at the moment would probably be quite close to whatever Deanna might sense from him. That meant there would be new challenges in this next phase.

Dread filled Picard, and for once, he couldn't keep it from showing. Things had been so hard for Rosemary up to this point, and now they were going to get worse? "Why would she be fighting them to this degree?"

"Because the central figure in these dreams is the person closest to Beverly."

"But she had dreams about Deanna weeks ago." His contradiction sounded calm, belying the involuntarily tightening of his stomach at the memory of Data's dispassionate, yet gruesome, description of the vivisection the Egelloc had chosen for Beverly to 'perform' on Deanna. He tugged at his uniform top as though pulling on a suit of armor that would protect him from the mental pictures that refused to fade.

Recognizing the preparatory gesture, Judith shook her head. "Not Deanna, sir... _you_."

"Me?"

For a man who had faced each previous difficulty head on, she was amazed at the depth of his denial in this instance. This was, of course, more personal than the average encounter with hostile forces.

"Why is that so hard for you to believe? You and Beverly were friends for years before ever serving together on the Enterprise. That has allowed the two of you to share a closer relationship despite the Captain/officer barrier. I'd be willing to bet that Beverly is the only person on this ship who calls you by your first name."

She sat back, a slight frown creasing her brow as realized she had another piece of the puzzle, if she could only find the right place for it. The answer arrived wrapped in equal parts of satisfaction and dread.

"Geordi once asked me why Rosemary had started with dreams of him and not someone closer to her," she said slowly. "I told him it was because he was the first friend she made on the Enterprise. Now I'm not so sure. I think the dreams _did_ start with someone closer," her eyes darted up, locking with his. "She started with you."

Picard's frown mirrored hers. "I'm sorry, I don't follow. Why would you suddenly begin to think that?"

"Let's go back over the time line. The first major incident with Rosemary was when she got so upset at finding out you were captain of the Enterprise. The time she spent on the holodeck with you the day before was the first genuine contact the two of you had. She was already bothered by the correlation she had made between herself and the lack of reality in the program. You were the one who calmed her down, helped her work through it. She felt comfortable enough to have lunch with you. It's very likely that she had one of the precursor dreams that night. It wasn't until the pattern had been well established that we identified the vague dreams she couldn't recall as part of the process."

He raised a hand to stop her. "I might accept that as a plausible theory, Counselor, except that the process, as you call it, has not continued. She hasn't had dreams about me until now... if that's what these are."

"I think the process did continue; she just found a way to slow it down. Remember how concentrating on your picture allowed the memories of Wesley to come through? Well, this is a variation of that. Fighting the memories about you allowed the memories of the others to come through. The evidence was there all along, we just didn't recognize it as a **second** pattern.

He stubbornly refused to accept her 'theory' without further proof. "Second pattern?"

"All those angry outbursts over the last few months? I just now realized that each one involved you in some way." She ticked them off her fingers. "Finding out you were the captain; the dispute over your Labarre program; the shore leave incident; the other night in your quarters - they all put distance between the two of you. Anger created a barrier that gave her a reason not to spend time with you. If she doesn't let you get close, then the memories can't come through. It is very likely that she was experiencing some precursor dreams just prior to each incident. An argument with you allowed her to get angry and suppress them again. Now that she has worked through all the other memories and nightmares, she has fewer walls to hide behind. There's very little left to keep them from coming though. That's why she has pulled back from everyone, especially you."

"And if you're correct, Counselor, what happens now?"

She refused to sugarcoat her prediction. "If the memories have been trying to break through from the beginning, and she's managed to fight them off until now, this is going to get ugly."

Picard tugged on his uniform top, belying his even tone. "Ugly how?"

"You're about to become the focal point of Rosemary's nightmares. While there is no way to anticipate what form of torture the Egelloc invented for her to inflict on you, we do know that several sessions will be necessary to help both of you deal with them. That also means you will go from being her rescuer to being her victim." She sighed heavily. "Ugly may be a mild description."

-tbc-


	21. Chapter 21

The dream had come every night for over a week. Each time there was more detail –- more pain, more blood, more screams.

She couldn't trust the assurances she was certain to get from Data, the ones that always insisted she hadn't hurt anyone. He had been right each time in the past but this felt... different.

No, she had to see for herself that he was all right.

The override code was punched in without thought, then she was standing in darkness as the door slid closed, blocking out the light from the corridor. After a moment's fearful hesitation, she moved into the adjoining room, stopping at the foot of the bed.

The sleeping figure was clearly visible in the soft starlight, and she wondered how he could look peaceful and alert at the same time.

So peaceful.

He deserved that peace, after what she had done to him.

Jean-Luc stirred, not sure what had woken him, only knowing something had. Turning his head, he saw someone standing in the shadows, barely able to make out tousled russet hair and pale yellow pajamas.

"Rosemary?" he asked softly, sitting up. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

She didn't answer, simply stood there staring.

Slowly, he slid out of bed, beginning to worry about her lack of response. Neither Deanna nor Judith had reported any episodes of sleepwalking, but this could be a new aberration. It gave him some measure of comfort to see her eyes following him as he moved to stand in front of her. "Rosemary?"

Her left hand trembled visibly as she reached out to let her thumb rest ever so lightly under his right eye as her fingertips fluttered against his temple. She seemed to be seeing something else as her hand drifted over his ear then down the side of his face coming to rest under his chin.

Jean-Luc fought back his own memory as he suddenly recognized the pattern she had traced.

"They were **real**, weren't they?" she whispered roughly.

He wanted to be able to give her any answer but the one he had, the one she dreaded yet already knew was right. He reached up to take her hand, pressing it to his cool cheek.

"Yes."

The quiet reply snapped her fragile control, and his heart almost stopped at her anguished cry. He caught her as she collapsed, easing her to the floor rather than try to hold her up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed as he held her tightly.

x~x

Half an hour later, he met Deanna at the door so that she wouldn't have to ring the chime. "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry to wake you at this time of night."

"It's all right, Captain," she replied, taking a seat on the couch. "Where is she?"

He nodded toward the bedroom. "In there, asleep, but she's very restless, so I doubt it will last long." His concern for Rosemary overrode his natural inclination to be embarrassed at the revelation that she was in his bed.

"What happened?"

He stifled a sigh as he sat in the chair opposite her and told her what had transpired. "I considered calling Sickbay for a sedative, but the worst seemed to pass. I tried to explain to her that while the basics of the memory were correct, the Egelloc had turned it around. She finally cried herself to sleep."

"Captain, I don't understand. What exactly was she remembering?"

His hand was steadier than Rosemary's had been as he reached up to touch his cheek. "The Borg implants. The Egelloc convinced her she had put them **in** rather than removed them." At her gasp, his gaze dropped to the floor, unwilling or unable to look into the dark eyes that he knew were filled with the same horror he was feeling. "Yes, now we know why she was so resistant to the memories about me."

"Of all things... to make her believe she did that... to you." Deanna thought for a moment that she might actually be sick but forced the feeling down. She had to be strong right now, for Rosemary, for the Captain and for herself.

"That's why I called you instead of Counselor McKenna. You were there, Deanna, you know how Beverly felt then, what she went through. You might be better prepared to help her now."

"How are you, sir?"

Picard grunted. He did not want to put words to the dark, almost primitive rage he felt. How could anyone do such a heinous thing to Beverly? How could they take a kind, compassionate woman, a dedicated healer and make her believe that she had done the one thing she would consider more depraved than what had been done to her?

Deanna felt him shut off the anger building in him. Although she knew he would eventually need to discuss his reactions to what had happened to Beverly, right now, she was grateful to be able to focus on one problem at a time.

"Nooo!"

The scream pierced the air, shocking them both out of their grim thoughts. Picard was on his feet before the sound faded, running into the bedroom with Deanna close behind.

She was sitting up, her hands covering her face as she cried. She cringed away from him when he sat on the edge of the bed. "God, Jean-Luc, how can you even stand to be near me? What I did to you..."

"Look at me," he caught her hand, pressing her palm to his cheek where the implant had been. "Touch me. See? Everything is all right. I'm fine."

"But I hurt you..."

He gently lifted her chin so that she had to look at him. "I promise, you didn't hurt me, you helped me. It's all right, Rosemary."

She shook her head, strands of hair sticking to her damp face. "I'm not... Rose... mary," she choked out between sobs. "M-my name is... Beverly."

Jean-Luc took a deep, shuddering breath as he realized what she had said. He kissed her temple tenderly before drawing her into his embrace. "Welcome home, Beverly."

Deanna watched silently, tears falling unchecked as the captain gently rocked Beverly in his arms, murmuring her name over and over again.

-tbc-


	22. Chapter 22

She was vaguely confused to find herself in her own bed upon waking.

_'My bed? Her bed? Beverly? Rosemary?' _

Her thoughts were foggy, then she sat up with a faint cry as the previous night's events rushed over her with alarming clarity. The sudden movement made her head throb, and she rubbed her temples in a futile effort to ease the pressure.

Calling up the lights to 25%, it was a surprise to discover that she was alone. Her long dormant medical training kicked in, turning her gaze to the closed door. She strongly suspected that someone was waiting on the other side.

Judith? Deanna? Selar? She devoutly hoped that it wasn't Jean-Luc. There was no way she could face him right now.

Wishing for a cup of coffee to clear her head, she decided against it, not wanting to face anyone just yet.

A bit wobbly from the sedative she had obviously received, she stumbled getting out of bed and had to brace herself against the dresser. Reaching out a trembling hand, she gently fingered the figurine carved in some sleek, dark material that posed gracefully there. It wasn't familiar, although she easily recognized the Klingon warrior complete with bat'telh in an attack position. A cold shiver ran up her spine as an eerie recollection of Worf presenting the gift appeared in her mind's eye.

_'He must have given it to Rosemary. I don't see anything of mine here,'_ she noted - pointedly ignoring the fact that she had no problem adopting a me/her attitude in thinking of the person she had been for so long.

She was caught by her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was longer than she usually kept it, and her face was thinner.

"That was some vacation you took, my friend..." she muttered disparagingly, "leave for four weeks and turn up ten months later."

A sharp shudder went through her as a surge of memories from those 'missing' months pounded in her head. Shying away from too much personal introspection at the moment, she turned her attention to the bedroom around her.

_'What an interesting decorator your other half is, Beverly. So many bright colors ought to be over stimulating, but this works quite nicely. And it's a far cry from Starfleet standard issue.'_

A painting that could be no style other than Data's hung on the wall opposite the door. Sketches and cloth, from scraps to whole swaths, covered most of the rest of the walls as though anything was better than looking at blank spaces.

She wandered through the room, much as Rosemary had done in her old quarters but felt dismay rather than the panic her alter ego had experienced. Opening the closet, Beverly was met with another cacophony of color. Without conscious thought, she looked down to see what shade of nail polish she was wearing and pulled out a tunic and skirt set of the same lilac. Tossing them over her shoulder, she went into the bathroom.

Beverly surveyed the items arrayed on the vanity. All the make-up was in subtly altered forms of her usual products, the colors each slightly more vivid - ones she preferred but chose not to use.

It was the same in the shower area. Although the shampoo wasn't the one she used, after running testing fingers though her hair she decided it was suitable for the time being. The bath gel and body cream were her usual replicator formula, but the crisp raspberry scent had been replaced by a lush, floral fragrance - one she had always avoided as being not proper for the CMO of Starfleet's flagship.

_'The brass would be so delighted to know they held such power, even in my bathroom.' _

It wasn't really their fault, although she felt marginally better for laying the blame at their feet. There were no regulations about such things; she had made the choices using her perceptions of what was expected of her.

Envy filled her as she realized that Rosemary hadn't been hindered by such considerations.

She pushed the thought away only to have it return once she was in the shower. Letting the hot water cascade over her head and down her body, she tried to decide how she felt - not physically, but mentally and emotionally.

How it felt to be Beverly Crusher once more... and how she was going to face everyone.

x~x

Judith looked up from the medical journal she was reading as the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning," the emerging woman said politely.

"Good morning..."

The hesitation elicited a slight smile. "I'm Beverly."

Her answer only covered half of the unasked question.

"My name -"

"- is Judith McKenna. I remember you from the time you spent in Sickbay before I left. We talked about one of the projects I had running in the lab."

It still wasn't enough information for the counselor to know how to proceed. Might as well go ahead and ask. "What do you remember about last night?"

"More than I care to." Beverly turned away before any more questions could be asked. "Look, I may have had a shower," she said on her way to the replicator, "but I'm not really fit company until after breakfast, particularly after an evening of hysterics and sedation. I certainly don't want to start analyzing my current condition on an empty stomach. Can I get you something?

"Coffee, please," Judith replied, unperturbed by the brush off. "Milk -"

"-no sugar; I remember that, too... sort of."

"Sort of?"

Beverly ignored the question as she set their cups on the dining table and returned to the replicator for food. She ordered croissants then quickly canceled them as memories of breakfasts with Jean-Luc mixed with the nightmares of Locutus made her give serious thought to skipping the meal altogether.

Toast, jam and an assortment of fruit joined the coffee and utensils on the table. They ate in silence, Beverly with her eyes focused on her plate, and Judith watching her.

Breaking the silence, Beverly said, "Nothing has changed since last night, except that I feel completely humiliated by what happened," She refilled her cup, concentrating on not rattling the pot against the rim. "A lot of what I remember is muddled. It's difficult to keep things straight when I'm remembering Rosemary's memories... or is it that I'm remembering Rosemary remembering my memories?" She crossed her eyes at the dizzying circle of thoughts.

"I can see where that would create some confusion," Judith agreed neutrally.

That made Beverly look up, eyes narrowed. "Deanna has probably told you that I don't like being counseled. I may not remember everything about the way you worked with Rosemary, but between us, let's try to keep the counselor's platitudes to a minimum."

Judith was intrigued to see such widely divergent personality traits displaying themselves so quickly as Beverly retreated behind the wall of Starfleet formality she had obviously created for herself.

"Very well, Doctor Crusher."

Beverly set her cup down with a sharp clunk, making Judith jump. "Don't get snotty with me, **Counselor** McKenna. I'm hanging on to being Beverly by my fingertips so I'm a long way from being Doctor Crusher." She slumped back into her chair, her anger lifting like the steam off her coffee, leaving her deflated. She laughed ruefully, leaving Judith scrambling to catch up with the swift change of moods. "Everybody's been waiting for 'Beverly' to come back... so how many times do you suppose people are going to slip and call me 'Rosemary'?"

"It's a habit more than anything else, so... maybe only half the number of times they called Rosemary 'Beverly' in the beginning? What do you remember about Rosemary?"

Beverly tried not to cringe at the anticipated question. "Too much... not enough. That she was able to do things I could never do."

"Like what?"

"Go barefoot." There were other things, but Beverly didn't feel up to discussing any of those right now. It was going to be hard enough discussing them later on.

Chuckling, Judith said, "Psychology aside, somehow I knew you were going to say that. My first advice is that since it will be several weeks at best before you return to duty, if going barefoot makes Beverly feel better, then do it."

"That would scare the hell out of people."

"So what? The only expectations that matter are yours. People accepted Rosemary roaming the ship without benefit of footwear, they'll get used to you doing it, too. Most of our limits are self-imposed anyway. Rosemary simply chose not to worry about a CMO's image."

Recalling her survey of the bedroom and bathroom, Beverly replied bitterly, "So I've noticed... and please don't ask, 'Noticed what?'"

Judith grinned at the preemptive statement. "I won't... for now. It will give us something to talk about later."

Beverly grimaced at the mention of later. This wasn't something that could be cured by a simple shot or surgery. It was going to be ugly and painful, and she no longer had Rosemary to do it for her.

"Are you going to want me to meet with Jean... the Captain... the way Rosemary did with the others?" She stumbled over her words as Rosemary's practice of calling him by his first name got tangled in her own in-grained habit of using his rank any time other than when the two of them were alone together.

The stammer went unmentioned but not unnoticed as Judith said, "To sort out the dreams? Eventually, yes. You obviously remember enough to know that it has proven to be very effective. I also think it would be beneficial for you to continue to use Data as the original sounding point for recounting the dreams."

"Does it have to be Data?" Beverly kept her eyes on her plate as she toyed nervously with her fork.

"Why not Data?"

"Because Rosemary was only his friend."

"What are you?"

"A superior officer." She said it as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"And you don't think Data is the one person on this ship who can ignore that fact?"

Beverly's lips contorted into a half smile, half scowl. "Maybe what I really don't want is to talk about these awful dreams with anyone."

"I won't insult you by saying it's going to be easy," Judith replied. "You know it's not, but what you need to concentrate on is the fact that however the details might differ, this new set of dreams is just as manufactured as all the rest."

"Except that those dreams took mostly positive things and turned them around. The Borg implants... that was horrifying to begin with."

That gave Judith pause. She hadn't yet had a chance to get the full background on the Borg incident. It was going to require a security clearance that she didn't have, so she made a mental note to meet with Data about it.

"The other memories may have been simpler, but the Egelloc did precisely the same thing with the Borg memories. The fact that Beverly is going to be dealing with it rather than Rosemary should help in separating the fact from the manufactured."

Beverly didn't need Egelloc-made memories to feel her flesh crawl at the thought of those agonizing hours and days. She hugged herself tightly to ward off the chill that came from within. "We were all going through so much then. Everybody was having nightmares - once we got a chance to sleep. Will, Worf, Geordi... they were dreaming about losing battles. Death and destruction, all pretty clear cut. I was dreaming about turning my best friends into monsters. Jean-Lu... the Captain..." Again she stammered, then cursed under her breath.

Judith saw the frustration. "I don't care what you call him. Use whatever comes naturally to you."

"Sorry, but that's not exactly helpful advice," Beverly said, shoving aside her plate and her half finished breakfast. "Which 'natural'? Natural to the part of me that left the ship or to the part of me that came back calling herself Rosemary?" One corner of her mouth quirked up. "Though I do thank you for saying 'natural' instead of 'normal'."

Judith laughed. "Normal isn't a bad word. I think Data has it right when he talks about 'normal parameters'. It allows for such a wonderful scope of variation."

Beverly smiled in half-hearted agreement. Glancing up, she found herself looking through the open bedroom door at Data's painting. It, along with everything else in these rooms were reminders that Rosemary had made a life for herself, a life in which she had friends and a place to live and 'Beverly' was only the occasional flash of memory or a story told by someone else.

"I don't think I want to stay here."

This was one change Judith couldn't keep up with. She had already begun separating Rosemary from Beverly and to have a Rosemary trait pop up so unexpectedly was disconcerting. "Of course, you have every right to choose where you receive treatment," she stalled, "but I would like you to wait to make that decision. A lot has happened to you in the last several hours, and the instinct to retreat from painful events can be strong. If you still feel the same in a day or two, we can discuss other facilities."

Beverly wanted to laugh at the other woman's erroneous conclusion but even the mention of the possibility of leaving the Enterprise unnerved her. "I didn't mean the ship, just these quarters."

"Oh." Startled, Judith paused to re-group. "Okay, would you like to go back to your own cabin?"

The suggestion was considered for only a moment. Although she knew it was impossible, thanks to having grown up on her Nana's ghost stories, she couldn't help but picture her abandoned quarters as being covered in dust and cobwebs. That was the simple reason for not wanting to go back. "No. I'm somewhere between Beverly and Rosemary, and I don't think I'll be any more at ease there than I am here."

It was a more honest reply than Judith had hoped for at this stage. "All right. I know there are some empty quarters just up the corridor... or would you prefer another deck altogether?"

"This deck is fine." Beverly felt the same satisfaction she had as Rosemary at making a decision - any decision.

"I'll get Deanna to authorize it this morning, and we can have you moved this afternoon. Do you want anything from here?"

The switch to counseling mode was subtle, but it was still there. Beverly laced her fingers tightly together and tried not to fidget. "Rosemary has excellent taste in clothes, but I'll have to look around a little more to decide on anything else."

"What about from your own quarters?"

"I think inventorying two lives is more than I want to handle in one day, so let's save that for tomorrow." Her eyes clouded, then she asked, "Does Wesley know... I mean that I..."

"No, we decided to wait until I could talk to you this morning."

"To see if I was still me or if I had reverted to Rosemary?"

"Pretty much," Judith confirmed matter-of-factly. "When we've finished here I'll go -"

"No. I want to be the one to tell him." Her brow creased in thought, then tightened in pain as she tried to hold on to a fleeting image that felt wrong, yet somehow familiar. "He was here, wasn't he? To see Rosemary?"

"Yes, he spent quite a bit of time with her in the few days he was here, mostly at her instigation, but sometimes at his."

The guilt was clear as Beverly asked forlornly, "What sort of emotional scars do you suppose it leaves on a child - no matter how old they are - if one day their mother doesn't recognize them?"

"I haven't dealt much in geriatrics, which is where the situation most often occurs."

"And which is totally different from my case."

"Listen to me," Judith said firmly, leaning forward for emphasis, "I met Wesley and talked with him. He knows everything that happened to you, and to be honest, I think he's handling it better than anybody else."

"Really? You'd think it would be harder to replace a mother than a friend."

Judith acknowledged the point with a nod. "Perhaps he just expects the crew of the Enterprise to work one of their legendary miracles."

"Sometimes it's easier to save the universe than it is to save one person."

"And sometimes it's easier to be forgiven by someone else than it is to forgive yourself."

Judith let her stew on that for a moment before saying, "Wesley wasn't on the Enterprise when you were found, and it was several weeks before we sent for him. He had no choice but to sit back and wait for things to happen. The others - the Captain, Deanna, La Forge - they've been here for the whole thing, so they think there is more they should have done or should be doing to help you. It's hard to watch a friend struggle with a problem day after day and not be able to do anything about it."

"Do you have any family?"

The counselor allowed the detour for the moment. "I have a younger brother, Gideon."

"Parents?"

**"We lost our parents a few years ago."**

"While you were at the Academy?"

"How did you know?"

"You aren't that old, so it was a logical guess. Going off to school is a disruption all its own, adding an emotional trauma doesn't help."

"Gideon is five years younger, but he handled it better than I did in many ways. I had just enough psychology courses under my belt to really confuse myself about what I should be feeling and how I should be acting."

"The student healer's curse..." Beverly smiled in commiseration, "learn about a condition and a week later you're certain you have it. I've seen med students and nurses go through it, but I didn't realize the syndrome carried over to psych students, too."

Crossing her arms, Judith sat back, fixing her patient with a pseudo-glare. "Rosemary certainly didn't have your talent for diversion. How did we get sidetracked to counseling me?"

"It wasn't consciously intentional. Maybe I figured I ought to get to know you - in case I forget everybody again."

Judith chuckled. "Well, both personalities have the same sense of humor, sarcastic and self-deprecating. Let's get back to Wesley. When we've finished here, I'll contact him -"

"No," Beverly interrupted firmly. "I said I want to do it. I need to do it. Everybody has been cleaning up my mess for long enough. It's about time I took back responsibility for my own life."

"I know the concept of Rosemary is difficult for you right now, but even though you were called by another name, you never abdicated responsibility for your actions."

"Yes I did, even if it was to a part of myself."

In the face of such stubbornness, Judith relented - for the moment. "We've got plenty of time to go over this, and you've got a lot that only you can sort out. How about we do something pleasant and call Wesley?"

"I keep telling you I'll do it."

"What will you say? 'Hi Wesley, it's Mom. I'm back, what's new with you?'"

The thin edge of sarcasm served its intended purpose of cutting through her patient's redheaded stubbornness, and Judith immediately softened her approach. "Beverly, talking to Wesley is going to be hard for both of you. All I want to do is break the news to him so that you both have a couple of minutes to get used to the new situation before facing each other."

"You know, for the next few days, my major function is to be a buffer between you and everyone else. You've got the toughest part by far, but they're going to have to make the transition, too. You don't have to see anyone you don't want to until you're ready. If you want to hide in your cabin for the next three weeks, fine. If you wake up tomorrow with an urge to take a walk, do it. Whatever feels comfortable for you, do it."

Beverly sighed in resignation. "Because the rest of your job is to make me do the uncomfortable things?"

Judith grinned. "And I'm very good at my job."

x~x

The call to Wesley was placed, and Judith spoke with him for a few minutes to break the news and to allow him time to control himself. It gave Beverly the same opportunity to hear her son's voice for the first time in longer that she cared to think about. None of it was enough to stop tears from running down the cheeks of both mother and son the moment Beverly took Judith's place at the terminal.

x~x

After the conversation, Judith put an emotionally exhausted Beverly back to bed and sat quietly on the edge of the bed for the few seconds it took her to fall asleep.

Judith waited until she was back in the main living area with the bedroom door firmly closed before tapping her comm badge.

x~x

Only four people were aware of Beverly's 'return', although Riker was certain something was going on. Glancing back at the Security station, he knew Worf had seen it, too. They surreptitiously watched Picard and Troi, both of whom were too tense to sit still.

"McKenna to Picard." The Captain started visibly as the page came over the comm system.

"Picard here."

**"When you have a few minutes, Captain..." **

Picard was conspicuously abrupt as he cut in. "Troi and I will be in the Observation lounge. Please join us as soon as you are able, Counselor."

Without another word, the pair rose and left the Bridge.

Riker exchanged looks with Worf then Data. The 'something' clearly involved Rosemary... but was it a significant breakthrough or a major setback?

x~x

Deanna was seated at the table when the counselor arrived, but Picard had been pacing from the moment he left the Bridge.

Taking the seat opposite Deanna, Judith alleviated their immediate fears. "She's still Beverly, and I don't see any reason why she should ever revert to Rosemary. She was insistent about calling Wesley. That was rather more emotionally draining than even she had anticipated, and now she's sleeping again."

Picard forced out the breath he had been holding then joined the women at the table. "How do we proceed from here?"

"The memories of being Rosemary are intact, which is a very good sign. They're a bit fuzzy and difficult to access, but this is only the first day. She has to learn to accept those memories as her own, not segregate them as Rosemary's. As for everything else, until we have reason to do otherwise, we'll go about it just as before. I want her to continue seeing Data to relate the dreams, but it may be harder for Beverly than it was for Rosemary."

"You think it was easy for Rosemary?" Picard demanded hotly, angered less by the counselor's terminology than the fact that his friend's suffering was going to increase.

"No sir," Judith placated, "but this new... version... of my patient is proving as hell-bent on finding roadblocks as the other. She has pointed out that while Data was a friend to Rosemary, Beverly has to contend with the fact that her friend is also a fellow officer - one whom she outranks. Rosemary was all but oblivious to Starfleet. Beverly, on the other hand, seems intent on using it as a reason to make things difficult. She doesn't have Rosemary to hide behind any longer so she's trying to latch on to anything that might mean she won't have to deal with all this."

Moving on to the next difficult point, Judith slid a padd across the table to Deanna. "I need your authorization on this, please. She wants to move out of her current quarters."

"Why do you need my approval for her to move back to her old cabin?" Deanna asked in confusion.

"Because that's not where she wants to go. She's completely bewildered about who she is right now. She said that she's 'a long way from being Dr. Crusher', and she has already displayed a decided... annoyance... to the fact that she was 'Rosemary'. I think she's looking for a neutral ground where she can find out who Beverly is."

As she keyed in the necessary information, Deanna couldn't help feeling that they were starting from scratch.

Judith accepted the returned padd before addressing Picard. "We need to get the word out that Beverly is back. Rosemary's arrival confused people, and this will, too. They adapted to dealing with her as Rosemary, so by necessity, there will be a period of adjustment as they learn to deal with her as Beverly."

"We'll also tell them the previous rules are still in place," Deanna said, at last moving from the personal to the professional. "They will bring their questions and concerns to me to let Judith concentrate on Beverly."

"What about Beverly?" Picard asked. "What's your plan to help her?"

"There's going to be a lot of adjusting on her part as well. She'll need a few days to herself to regain her equilibrium. Her sessions will continue, but in her quarters, not in my office. It's going to be up to Beverly as to when she wants contact, so people need to stay away. In a day or two, her closest friends can begin to send messages. I suspect that, eventually, cabin fever will get to her, and she'll do what Rosemary did which was simply to walk out the door."

"Seeing people should be easier for Beverly, shouldn't it?" The hope was clear in Picard's face. "Most of these people have been her crewmates many years."

"That might make it harder. Disappointment is a key emotion in these encounters. Rosemary's was directed outward at the people who wanted her to be Beverly. Beverly will most likely direct it inward, at herself, for putting them through all this."

"But she didn't - "

Judith cut him off as respectfully as she could. "Sir, it's not a matter of what happened, but of how she perceives it. The fact that she'll be dealing with it as Beverly is an enormous plus in her favor."

She couldn't tell if he actually believed her or if he was trying to convince himself that he did.

x~x

After two days in her new home, Beverly felt settled enough to take a 'tour' of the quarters.

Vaguely realizing that she was mimicking Rosemary's actions, her first act had been to rearrange the furniture. The arrangement was different, but there was still a chair by the window with Nana's quilt draped over the back.

She paused briefly to touch the delicate pink blossoms on the orchid plant. It was the one that had occupied a similar spot in her original bedroom. Forgotten in the upheaval of Rosemary's arrival, Alyssa had rescued the bedraggled plant and tenderly returned it to its former glory.

Another item on the growing list of favors she owed her friends.

She moved away from the plant and the distressing thought, continuing her survey.

The closet contained most of Rosemary's designs, but her fingers reached out to confirm the presence of her own old favorites like the blue sweater that always insisted on falling off one shoulder or the other.

In the main room, Data's painting hung on the wall opposite her theater masks. The Klingon warrior figurine sat among pictures of Wesley and her grandmother.

_'Definitely an eclectic mix,'_ she thought as she considered the blending of her two lives.

It was both reassuring and disconcerting.

-tbc-


	23. Chapter 23

As Judith had predicted, the nightmares involving Picard were the worst. Based in far harsher truth than any of the others, they worked at the very core of Beverly's fears: fear of loss, fear of inadequacy, fear of hurting others - by disappointing them at best, by inflicting pain at worst.

Beverly tried in vain to keep the dreams to herself, spending nights tormented by the vicious images in her mind or pushing herself to exhaustion in hopes that the dreams wouldn't come. After a week, she found herself compelled to seek out someone to talk with, in order to keep from going insane in the small hours of the night when her cabin seemed as cramped and dark as her cell on Dakar 6.

When she showed up on his doorstep, Data simply said, "Good evening, Beverly. I believe Spot has missed you."

After the first two nights, Data found it useful to meet Beverly, not in his quarters, but on the holodeck where the image of vast, open spaces could be projected. He reported that, after trying several programs, she seemed most soothed by the one that allowed her to sit under a tree on a hill overlooking Labarre, France.

x~x

While Beverly worked with Data to get the dreams to a manageable level, her sessions with Judith concentrated on other things.

"Worf tracked you to Su'dara. What happened after that?"

"He's pretty thorough, so I'm sure you know that my scheduled transport was delayed with mechanical problems. I tried other ships, but they were full or going in the wrong direction or leaving even later than my delayed shuttle. I thought three weeks on Kiris was worth a bit of discomfort, so I began trying alternatives to official passenger transport."

"How did you find the Keldysh?"

Setting aside her half-full teacup with deliberate care, Beverly rose from her place on the couch and began roaming about the room.

Judith lost the bet with herself that the first question would have been the one to goad her patient into motion. Rosemary had always prowled the room quickly, as though looking for a way to escape. Beverly seemed more to be traveling through a maze in a fog, moving hesitantly, starting and stopping jerkily.

Their hands were another difference. Rosemary never paid attention to the sometimes emphatic, flailing actions that occurred as she paced and talked. Beverly's awareness appeared to be acutely heightened as she alternated between lacing her fingers tightly together and clenching her fists in her pockets.

"It wasn't hard to identify the few cargo ships that were both leaving any time before mine and going in the general direction I wanted. The Keldysh's next stop was to be a small trading post half a day from Kiris. I tracked down Captain Solya and let him laugh at my offer to pay for the privilege of becoming part of his cargo."

"I'm sure he thought it was odd for a Starfleet officer to want to travel in such a manner. Or did it make him suspicious?"

"Starfleet wasn't a factor because I wasn't traveling in uniform. He probably would have turned me down flat if he had known. I never asked him about what he was transporting, but I doubt he would have taken on any passengers if it was serious contraband."

"So how did you convince him?"

"My natural charm, of course." Her smile was as weak as the joke. "Seriously, he didn't take a lot of convincing since I showed up packed and ready to go. However unusual I might have appeared, it was also clear that I was serious."

"I guess the flight was uneventful?"

It was wasted effort, but she tried prevarication anyway. "Up to a point."

"Tell me about it."

"We were about two hours from our destination when a ship like I've never seen before uncloaked directly in front of us. There wasn't time for evasive maneuvers. It took a single phaser blast to disable the weapons systems. It was all a grandstanding show of power anyway. That little freighter was no match for the larger ship to begin with. A tractor beam locked on, we were drawn in and deposited in a cargo bay. That's the last thing I remember until I woke up in that cell. I didn't know what day it was, or even if we were still in the same sector."

There was a sour taste in her mouth as she thought of a question she should have asked earlier. "What happened to Captain Solya?"

Even knowing it would be coming at some point, Judith still didn't like the answer she had to give. "He was among the dead on Dakar 6."

Now, Beverly really did feel sick as she recalled the diminutive man, unable to picture him as anything other than vital and alive. His shock of yellow hair had been an interesting compliment to his pale green skin, and he had the swagger of an Orion pirate despite being a head shorter than she was and half again her weight.

She swore under her breath, trying to shake off the mental image.

"What is it?"

"My damned impatience. I was worried about missing a couple of days of my vacation, and I ended up losing months of my life and a lot more. It's probably my fault the Keldysh was captured."

"You're half right, but none of this was your fault. Impatience put you in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Keldysh would have been there anyway. The Egelloc did everything else."

"So why doesn't that make me feel better?"

"I can't make you feel better. That has to come from you."

"Oh, yeah... now I remember why I hate being counseled."

x~x

After obtaining the proper clearances, Data spent several hours briefing Judith on the events involving the Borg. The details of Picard's abduction, the battle waged by the Enterprise, the captain's retrieval and the Borg's defeat would tell her how to direct the upcoming sessions.

She could only hope that it would be enough preparation to lead these two through the emotional mire that lay ahead.

x~x

Beverly stood outside Ten Forward for a full minute trying to calm herself enough to go in.

For a moment, another scene flashed in her mind. A soft breeze... a hill... a village spread below...

Rosemary had wanted strangers who wouldn't expect anything from her. Beverly wanted friends who would do the same thing.

Since her 'return' two weeks ago, she had seen only Judith and Data for any extended period of time. The notification light on her console flashed almost constantly, thanks to the steady flow of messages from Geordi, Worf and dozens of others. Will had stopped by the day before just long enough for a hug and a hello. Deanna's one visit had left Beverly with a pounding headache and such an unsettled feeling that she asked Judith to keep her away for awhile longer.

Jean-Luc was off-limits altogether until they began their sessions.

The looming prospect of that first session, scheduled for tomorrow morning, was one of the reasons she was standing here now, looking for something - anything - else to occupy her mind.

Beverly was beginning to understand Rosemary's need to explore - it was just an excuse to get out of her cabin. The claustrophobia had appeared in Beverly, but her desire to keep the door, her escape, open clashed with ingrained propriety and professional distance.

Beverly hadn't told Judith about her plan to reinsert herself into life aboard the Enterprise. Like Rosemary, she didn't want a nursemaid disguised as an escort. Unlike Rosemary, she knew just how hard this was going to be...

...which didn't explain why her first choice was to dive headlong into a communal meeting area such as Ten Forward.

Feeling her nerve beginning to desert her, she took a deep breath, held it and moved into sensor range. Three more steps, and she was inside with the doors closing behind her.

The first wave around the room consisted of curious glances to see who had just entered. Those were followed by the startled double takes as recognition hit. Then came the nudges and furtive pointing to not-so-subtly let those who had missed it know of her arrival.

She didn't know which was worse - the looking or the turning away. In her head, she knew it was an attempt to make her feel less like the center of attention. In her heart, it felt more like a stab of rejection.

She released the breath she still held in a sigh of relief when she saw two people who hadn't turned away and were now waving her over.

"Hi... uh... Doc," Geordi said as she approached the table.

"Don't call me that," she murmured, laying a hand on his shoulder, "my name is Beverly."

Recognizing his first conversation with Rosemary, Geordi returned her smile and covered her hand with his. Feeling her tense at the added contact, he let her hand slip from under his as he said, "Beverly... I like it; it suits you."

Worf understood the look she gave him that said he should recall a certain encounter of his own with Rosemary and act accordingly. A talk with Deanna had prepared him for this moment. Her suggestion to treat Beverly the same way he had treated Rosemary and forget about 'Doctor Crusher' for the time being was so simple he was embarrassed that he hadn't thought of it.

"Would you care to join us, Beverly?" he asked.

"Yes, I would. Thank you, gentlemen." She sank into the offered chair.

A waiter, who'd had the misfortune to startle Rosemary, not once but twice, made sure to approach the table where Beverly could see him.

"May I get you something?"

"Yes, please. Anything strong and not synthetic." She smiled at his concerned look. "I promise not to ask for more than one."

Returning her smile, he replied, "I'll see what Guinan can recommend."

As the young man left, Beverly's eyes darted nervously around the room.

After glancing over one shoulder then the other in exaggerated caution, Geordi leaned in to ask conspiratorially, "Why do I get the feeling you're AWOL?"

It earned him a weak grin. "Because - technically - I am." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I didn't tell Judith because I didn't want to dissect it: why I wanted to do it... what it meant... where I would go..."

Geordi held up a hand. "Hey, you don't have to explain it to us, either. You're just here for a quiet drink with a couple of friends. It happens all the time. Pretty ordinary stuff."

Beverly released a shuddering sigh and tried to cover it with a nervous laugh. "You have no idea how wonderful 'ordinary' sounds, Geordi." Tears welled in her eyes as she realized how badly she had taken for granted the special friendship of these two people. "I owe you both so much more than 'thank you' can ever say. What you did for Rosemary... for me... was -"

"Exactly what friends were supposed to do," Geordi cut in, trying to stem the tide of her rising distress, "and nothing you wouldn't have done for either one of us."

"What would you do for a friend who feels like she could run from the room screaming?"

"I could run out first," Geordi offered, "then it would look like a chase instead of a panic attack."

She laughed at the outlandish image his words created.

The waiter returned, setting a delicately stemmed liqueur glass in front of Beverly. "Guinan's finest," he said, indicating the clear violet colored liquid. "She says to sip it slowly, keep breathing - oh, and be home in an hour."

Beverly's eyes widened at the unusual instructions. "I don't think I want to know what this is so I'll simply offer my thanks to you and to Guinan."

"I'll tell her," he replied with a nod.

"And we will escort her home well before her curfew," Worf stated firmly.

Knowing the Chief of Security was as good as his word, the waiter departed.

Beverly took a tentative sip. It was delightfully cool on her tongue... then warm down her throat... and molten heat in her belly. Her eyes closed as the room tilted, and she forced herself to breathe.

"Still feel like running from the room screaming?"

"Geordi," she rasped as her eyes grew misty, "I'm not sure I could run now if my hair was on fire."

Her companions were relieved to see that her agitation had begun to dissipate, and they, too, relaxed a little.

Another taste tracked the same cool, warm, hot path through her body, and this time she felt the tip of her nose go numb. She wasn't drunk by any means, but she was beginning to understand the 'be home in an hour' edict. It was getting easier to ignore the furtive, stolen glances cast in her direction, and to let Geordi and Worf carry the conversation with only minimal contributions from her.

Two sips later, and she wasn't sure she would have the brain to hand to mouth coordination necessary to finish the drink. It was a marvelous feeling, to have no control and better yet, not to need it.

"Gentlemen," she said slowly and distinctly, "I believe my time is about up. Would one of you be so kind as to escort me to my cabin?"

Worf spoke before the other man had a chance. "It would be my honor, Beverly."

"I think I'll tag along," Geordi said as he rose from his seat, "since this time I don't have an irate Ferengi to calm down while you make your escape."

Beverly frowned in puzzlement until the proper memory popped into place. "Oh, Ket. He's lucky all Rosemary did was rough him up a little. She wanted to make him eat the table."

The statement earned an appreciative grunt from Worf and outright laughter from Geordi.

They knew all eyes were on them as they left Ten Forward, and none of them cared.

-tbc-


	24. Chapter 24

The initial two-a-day sessions with Picard were brief, acclimating Beverly to simply being in the same room with him for more than a few minutes at a time. The nightmares were not up for discussion.

The first time was intended to be more along the lines of a casual get-together, but Beverly didn't make it past Judith offering them both something to drink.

Despite its brevity, Judith declared it a successful ice breaker and gave Picard permission to begin sending Beverly messages. He immediately used the opportunity to tell Beverly how much he missed her at breakfast, even when they argued.

Beverly arrived - late - for the afternoon session and quickly advised Judith to skip over the hospitality portion if she wanted to accomplish anything.

Each successive meeting lasted longer than the one before it, sometimes by only a minute, sometimes by two or three. When they managed two straight days of sessions that lasted thirty minutes each Judith announced that they would begin work on the Borg dreams the next morning.

x~x

Anticipating that Beverly would be at least fifteen minutes late, Judith adjusted Picard's arrival time accordingly so that they had a mere five minutes to wait.

The counselor orchestrated the seating, putting Beverly and Picard opposite each other, but off center so that neither would be constantly forced to look into the other's face. She took a place just outside the peripheral vision of both.

As in the sessions between Rosemary and the others, there was a third party standing by, waiting to step in and whisk Beverly away when she became too upset. Today, it was Will Riker.

Knowing it was likely to be a short session, Judith didn't waste time tiptoeing around the issue.

"Captain, as I understand it, you remember your time as Locutus."

"Yes," he replied tightly, staring at some point over Beverly's left shoulder. It didn't matter that his own nightmares had resurfaced or that he had known this conversation was coming. He silently reminded himself that today it wasn't about him. This was for Beverly.

"Do you remember seeing Beverly as part of the Away Team on the Borg ship?"

"Yes."

"What did you think when you saw her?"

Months of his own therapy at the time had primed him with a ready answer until he realized the question was different. He had always been asked how he **felt**, never what he **thought**.

"I heard... Beverly's voice... calling my name... but when I turned... I heard only Locutus' thoughts of how to assimilate various members of the Away Team. A part of me was actually cataloging the easiest ways to destroy my friends."

"What were you thinking, Beverly?"

"That no one should have that done to them..." Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "Least of all him."

Not wanting to dwell on any one moment, Judith moved on. "When Locutus contacted the ship and told them to prepare to be assimilated, what was Jean-Luc thinking?"

"That I didn't want to be saying those things to my crew, my friends. I could see the revulsion on Will's face, the defiance on Worf's..."

"And Beverly?"

Tortured hazel eyes met sapphire ones bearing the same anguish.

"What did you see?" Judith prompted softly.

"Sorrow," he whispered.

"Guilt," Beverly said at the same time.

That shocked him. "Guilt? Beverly, why?"

"Because I **left** you there!" She exploded off the couch. The need for movement as well as for physical distance from Picard felt like hands clawing at her arms, her throat. Tears streamed down her face as the effort to speak countered her effort to breathe. "Why do you think it was so easy for the Egelloc to create those memories? Because it was my fault you were assimilated! I let them **do** that to you!"

Jean-Luc tried to rise, but Judith, now standing behind him, held him back with a hand on his shoulder. He reluctantly accepted the clear the message that physical distance was an unbreakable rule at the moment. "Beverly, you weren't even on the bridge when I was taken -"

"But when we found you, we should have brought you back... **I** should have brought you back!" Her voice rose, bringing Will in from the sidelines. Flailing an arm in his direction, Beverly said, "Sure, Will gave the order to kill us all by ramming the Borg ship, but once we got you back, **I** had to take Locutus apart and put Jean-Luc Picard back together out of the left over bits and pieces. I was the one who had to remove technology I didn't even begin to understand. The Borg could be blamed for taking you, but it was going to be **my** fault when you died."

Emotional overload buckled her knees, and Will caught her as she sank to the floor. Clutching her tightly to his chest, Riker had only to tap his comm badge to activate the pre-arranged signal that would beam the pair from Judith's office to Beverly's quarters.

x~x

Beverly gradually became aware of her surroundings and knew what was coming next.

She had dreaded this scene almost more than any of the others that had been so often repeated during her months as Rosemary.

It was the same now as it had always been then. The mind-numbing hysteria ebbed slowly, leaving her drained physically as well as emotionally. She felt the reassuring grip of Will's large hand on her shoulder and a glass of cold water was offered to relieve the throat left raw from screaming. He did all the usual things: murmured soft words, stroked her hair, adjusted the quilt around her.

Eventually - as Rosemary before her - she did as was expected of her. She gathered the tattered shreds of her emotions and assured him that she all right, this time adding that she hadn't retreated once more into the pseudo-safety of being Rosemary. A half hour of enduring what felt like pitying looks but weren't, she could finally be alone.

Alone to make peace with herself for events that had been out of her control.

And to resolve to make things different this time.

x~x

"How could I not see what she was going through, Will?" Deanna asked despondently.

She had listened without comment as he filled her in on the day's session between Beverly and the captain. Now she couldn't help but feel that she had failed her friend by letting her suffer.

Riker knew what she was doing. "Don't you go getting guilty, too. You had your hands full with the Captain. You couldn't take on all of us as well. That's why we were each assigned to other counselors."

"Will, I saw her every day to discuss the Captain's condition. I should have known."

"And you don't think she doing her damnedest to avoid those feelings when you were around?" he countered. "Aside from him, you were the last person she wanted to know how she felt. This isn't your fault... or hers."

"Feeling the way she did and yet she was always there whenever he needed her, day or night."

A piece clicked into place for Riker. "It also provided her with the opportunity to punish herself."

"What do you mean?"

"With the guilt she was feeling for leaving him behind, listening to his nightmares was the perfect penance for her." He shook his head at the depth of her masochism. "A living, breathing hair shirt."

x~x

Picard was staring blankly into his coffee cup the next morning when the sound of his door chime startled him out of his stupor. He hadn't slept well, and he hadn't anticipated seeing anyone until his shift began. Rather than issue his standard "Come", he rose from his chair and went to the door. He hoped whoever it was would get the message that he wasn't in the mood for company.

It never entered his mind that he would find Beverly standing uneasily in the corridor.

They looked at one another for a long moment - she guilty for bringing on the Borg nightmares that shadowed his eyes, he wary because of the tumultuous session of the day before.

They both knew she shouldn't be there, not without Judith and someone as back up, but Beverly was desperate for some small sense of normalcy, if only for breakfast.

The need for normalcy resonated in Jean-Luc as well.

Since Beverly's return, he had worked his shifts, prepared or read the necessary reports, dealt with whatever shipboard matters required his attention. His life went on unchanged... except for the fact that his best friend was fighting for her sanity, and there was very little he could do to help. The long days when she wasn't seeing anyone had been harder to handle than the brief, awkward sessions they had begun with two weeks ago. After yesterday's tempestuous session...

To find her standing at his door with the attitude that it was an everyday occurrence and why shouldn't she come for breakfast - it was a defiance he was grateful to see in her.

"Good morning, Beverly," he said, breaking the silence as he stepped aside to let her enter. "What kind of jam would you like for your croissants this morning?"

It was the precise reception she had been seeking, and she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes.

"Strawberry, please," she replied, grateful when he overlooked the quaver in her voice.

Minutes later, seated at the table with her cold fingers wrapped around a cup of hot coffee, she looked at him steadily.

"It's not going to be easy, is it, Jean-Luc?"

"No," he admitted slowly, "but every morning that we get up and face each other is one more victory for both of us. Everything the Egelloc did to you is made up of altered images; my nightmares are ones I have survived in the past. You didn't leave me during my ordeal, and I won't leave you now. We can defeat anything together."

"I hear a lot of comforting words, and I appreciate them..." she paused, her breathing ragged as memories and emotions threatened to swamp her once more. She felt panic seeping in around the edges, defeating her hope that generalities would make this tolerable.

He saw the panic and understood it. "But they aren't comforting, are they?"

Shaking her head, her tension shifted up a notch when he reached out and covered her hand, but she didn't pull away. It was the first time he had touched her since the night she 'came back'.

"I'm not convinced I deserve to be comforted." She felt his hand tighten around hers, and this time she did pull away - from his touch and from the contradiction he would have ready. "I know it's illogical, but I'm human, not Vulcan, and it's how I feel."

"Counselor McKenna should be grateful that she has an easier patient than Troi had in me."

It was a feeble attempt at humor that somehow increased the tension rather than relieving it.

"I doubt that Judith would ever classify me as an 'easy' patient."

He tried again. "Well, at least you admit you have feelings about what happened to you. It took Deanna months to drag the same admission out of me!"

Beverly fought down the hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her at the mildly ridiculous conversation. She felt her breathing drop to shallow gasps as her face grew warm. Rising abruptly, she bumped against the table making the dishes dance in an agitation that matched her own.

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, I thought I could do this, but..." her words rushed out in a breathy tumble.

Picard remained seated as she edged toward the door. She looked like a hunted animal, and he didn't want to be mistaken for the hunter. "Don't worry about it," he assured her. "We'll take this at whatever pace you need. You know you're welcome any time."

There was no answering smile as she fled, but the flash of gratitude in her eyes was enough.

x~x

As predicted, Judith was disturbed that they had taken matters into their own hands. Unconcerned about having her position as counselor usurped, she was worried only that the change in tactics might prove detrimental to her patient. It took Deanna more hot chocolate and coffee than was good for either of them to get Judith to see that Beverly and the Captain weren't changing tactics but had reverted to their standard pattern of problem resolution.

x~x

There were more sessions - Judith and Beverly one on one, Beverly with Picard but supervised by the counselor. More self-recriminations, more hysteria.

Beverly and Jean-Luc continued their breakfasts with the strict instructions that any talk of what went on in sessions was off limits. They had no trouble following the edict and found comfort in keeping the conversations light, the more inconsequential the better.

It was four days before Beverly made it through an entire breakfast, but each day she showed up.

-tbc-


	25. Chapter 25

When the worst of the Borg nightmares were over, Beverly began to spend more time interacting with the rest of the crew where the slip-ups of calling her Rosemary occurred as predicted. They quickly subsided only to be replaced by a logical inclination to call her 'Dr. Crusher' which she didn't yet feel ready for. The process was aided enormously when Data took the initiative to program the computer to accept 'Beverly' as a page just as it had recognized 'Rosemary'.

What little equilibrium Beverly had gained suffered a serious blow as she was suddenly blindsided by a barrage of new dreams. This time, however, she wasn't to be granted the meager solace of knowing they were manufactured memories. The physical torture she suffered at the hands of the Egelloc was made all the more painful as she recalled the dispassionate, clinical attitude her captors had shown.

A blow to the face... note the reaction.

Snap the wrist bones, one at a time... record the screams.

Insert the probes... log the time until unconsciousness.

Each action was merely a change in the variables. Every sob, moan and shriek was a result to be cataloged for later study.

The scientist in her was repulsed by the mere idea that one sentient being could do such things to another. It was an abomination to everything she had been trained to hold dear.

Matters were complicated when Beverly found it impossible to discuss the dreams with Data. In a reversal of the previous months, his lack of emotions now became a disadvantage as it made him eerily similar to the Egelloc.

Offers from Geordi and Will to take Data's place were politely declined as Beverly once again cited Starfleet rank as a barrier. This time, Judith had to accept the objection.

Knowing Picard would want to volunteer, Judith took the preemptive stance that neither he nor Beverly had sufficiently gotten past the Borg dreams to make that a viable option.

The duty ultimately fell to Judith in order to avoid having to run through an entire crew roster of people willing to help. She didn't get much sleep while they worked to get the dreams under control.

It was harder for Beverly to talk to her in the initial stages. Judith solved that problem by sticking to the holodeck routine Beverly had begun with Data and by insisting that those times were strictly for recounting the dreams. On the holodeck she was a friend; in the office for regular sessions she became a counselor once more.

x~x

The aversion to being touched that Judith had predicted after the Ket incident now began to surface. Geordi survived the first and worst encounter when he caught her unawares. She lashed out, scratching his hand in her panic. Her profuse apologies were accepted as a matter of form only as Geordi assured her he would live to tell the tale... and to be sure she saw him coming in the future.

There were other less dramatic occurrences, but each one left her shaken and unsure of herself. Her self-confidence, already battered, dropped further each time, and she grew increasingly short-tempered at her own reactions to those who were trying to help her.

Her friends and crewmates could do little other than to make sure she was aware of who was around her and not to touch her unless she saw it coming.

x~x

Some of the old dreams popped up again as well. Not as intensely as before, but enough to be distressing.

Beverly was in a better position to understand how the Egelloc had built the dreams. Each was based on what could be considered the mundane tasks of practicing medicine - helping the sick or injured. A routine VISOR check for Geordi... Worf taking an exercise program to a new level and proud of the wound received there... Deanna's stomachache after too much chocolate...

Okay, so implanting the Trill symbiont into Will was hardly mundane, but despite the unusualness of it, there was little doubt the patient would survive.

But Jean-Luc... there almost weren't words to describe what he had been put through and that she had to compound in order to reverse.

Removing the Borg technology had nearly been beyond her skills. Her best friend's very life had hung in the balance, something she had always feared. She had also felt the pressure of knowing that everyone else was depending on her to save him. Her first mistake had been to leave him behind once she had found him. She couldn't make another one by letting him die.

And the Egelloc had found a way to create an illusion even more despicable than the reality had been.

So she shut out all of it. Shut out her closest friends - her very life - and built a wall named Rosemary.

Until the day when the façade of Rosemary wasn't enough to keep the demons at bay.

x~x

Beverly carried on Rosemary's habit of roaming the corridors of the Enterprise when she couldn't - or didn't want - to sleep.

The low, almost inaudible hum of the engines... the evenly spaced footsteps on thick gray carpeting... they weren't enough background noise to drown out the variations of Judith's warning to Rosemary that echoed in Beverly's head as she walked.

_'The harder you run, the harder things are when they catch up to you.'_

Things couldn't have caught up any harder than the night her memory returned.

Her hands were suddenly clammy as she tried not to think about the wrenching scene in Jean-Luc's quarters when her mind turned on her once more and Rosemary vanished, leaving her with no protection against the onslaught of memories and emotions.

Fear, pain, humiliation, guilt... all terrible things that in the wee hours seemed impossible to overcome.

There was one thing she hadn't expected.

Surrounded by all her closest friends, Beverly felt a deepening alienation that was decidedly different from the distance Rosemary had experienced when she was getting to know everyone. For Beverly, the familiarity she felt with Jean-Luc and the others seemed to work against her, leaving her isolated and displaced.

Overjoyed at her return, their eagerness to help was almost suffocating, and she was feeling an overwhelming urge to withdraw within herself, into her own space.

"Beverly?"

The voice made her jump, and she took a step backwards when she looked up into the concerned eyes of Will Riker.

"Will... I didn't see you..."

"I guessed as much. You were just standing in the middle of the corridor, staring at the floor. Are you okay?"

Her gaze dropped again, and she fought back the hated tears that threatened. "Honestly, Will, I don't know what 'okay' is any more. I'm not sure I'll ever know again."

Will reached down for her hand, ignoring her slight flinch. Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he started walking, a slow, easy-going pace that she followed automatically.

"I know how tough it's been for you, but I also know how strong you are. It will take time, but things will get better."

"I wish I had some of your confidence..." she murmured, "about anything."

Wisely, Will didn't try again to reassure her. He calmly strolled along, telling her about the latest survey mission and answering her half-interested questions, but he noticed that she grew strangely quiet when the conversation turned to bits of crew gossip. Figuring that she was working on some problem, Will merely kept walking and talking about anything that he could think of. He knew she would talk when she was ready.

After their third trip around the deck, she asked softly, "Will, did you like Rosemary?"

The question, for some reason, didn't surprise him.

"Yes, we all did... but then, she was a lot like you."

Beverly's hand jerked away from where it had rested so comfortably just above his elbow, balling into a tight fist at her side. "I wish everybody would quit saying that."

She had stopped once more in the middle of the passageway, but there was nothing vacant about her expression now.

"'Rosemary was a **survivor**, she was so **resilient**, just like **you**, Beverly.' I'm not any of those things! If I were, I wouldn't have become Rosemary in the first place! I was too weak to fight the Egelloc and too weak to face what had been done to me." She glared at Will. "You should have let me die when I asked you to."

Will was ready to help her deal with the anger and pain, but he refused to accept the blame couched in her last comment. Beverly dropped her gaze when the fire in his blue eyes matched her own.

She tried to move around him, but his strong hands grasped her shoulders, cutting off her escape.

"Don't _ever_ say that again!" His own anger burned out in a quick, hot blaze, leaving behind a bleakness that nearly choked off his next words. "I couldn't let you die, Beverly. You are one of the few people I've ever considered family, and I wasn't about to lose you."

She hung her head, ashamed of herself for blaming Will when he had made the same choice she would have made.

Will eased his hold, one hand moving to cup her chin. He coaxed her with gentle pressure until she looked at him once more before adding, "And don't hate Rosemary. She kept you alive and fighting until you could do it as Beverly. I will always be grateful to her for that - and so many other things. It sounds awful to say that you're like family to me and then follow it by saying I'm sorry that you didn't feel you could let any of us know how much things like your dancing mean to you."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Will," she said as she slipped her arms around his waist to hug him, "I'm black and blue enough - figuratively speaking - for the both of us. I'm just used to keeping it to myself."

He hugged her, grateful that this demonstrative part of Rosemary still showed through on occasion.

Pulling back, he gave her one of his trademark grins. "Hey, I wasn't asking to be invited to every dance session, just once in awhile."

She smiled faintly, ruefully. "Some habits are hard to break, even for people you care about, but I'll try."

"I know it's hard," he agreed, and she saw a new resolution cross his face. "That's why I want to tell you something before we fall back into those old patterns. Do you remember the conversation I had with Rosemary about Odan?"

Beverly tried in vain to control the blush that stole across her cheeks. She was grudgingly grateful to her alter ego for posing the questions she had never mustered the nerve to ask, but it was rather embarrassing. "Yes, I remember - sort of. Some things are still... not exactly focused."

"Uh, yeah, I know that feeling. What I wanted to say is that now I understand what you went through back then. I know what it's like to see a face... and find another personality behind it. To you, I looked like me and sounded like Odan. I looked at you... and heard Rosemary."

"Kinda spooky, wasn't it?" she smiled weakly.

Will was glad that she was able to joke about it, even half-heartedly. No matter how she denied it, she was strong and resilient. Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm once more, he began walking. "Well, look at it this way - with you, me, Odan and Rosemary, we'll never be short-handed for poker!"

Aiming a playful shot at his ribs, she groaned in delighted agony at the terrible joke.

He fended off the blow then took her hand, returning it to its former place and started off down the corridor again. He hadn't taken two steps when she pulled him to a stop.

"Will, there's something you didn't talk about with Rosemary or me."

"What's that?" he asked, sounding more cautious than casual.

"After Odan left, you were angry because I..." she hesitated, "because Odan..." she felt her earlier blush return, "Odan and I..."

"Because you and Odan made love while I was the host," he finished for her.

The blush deepened as her gaze dropped to the floor. "Yes. I'm sorry, Will. We... I shouldn't have..."

"Don't apologize for being in love, Beverly." He raised her chin with the same gentle touch as before. "Even if it's in the most unreal circumstances, no one should ever pass up a chance for love. Once I understood that, I stopped being angry."

"But you were right to be angry for what we... did," she insisted.

"Are you trying to justify my anger - or yours?"

"Mine?"

"You don't mind that we helped Rosemary, but you're mad as hell because we liked her. Do you feel that we betrayed you by liking Rosemary?"

"Yes..." She groaned in exasperation as she leaned in to rest her forehead on his chest. "No..."

"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up." He grunted softly when she thumped her head against him. It was hard to tell if the move was meant to chastise him or herself. "What is it?" he prodded.

She started to speak, sighed then tried again. "I feel... like I betrayed myself by becoming Rosemary," she confessed, talking into his chest. "It's boring being mad at myself all the time so I spread it around by getting mad at everybody else."

Taking her shoulders, he pushed her back but let her stare at his boots instead of making her look him in the eye. "We liked Rosemary primarily because she was a part of you. Try to remember that and forget about being angry for awhile." He turned her around and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Let's walk."

This time she took a more active part in the conversation. Will didn't mind repeating himself on the parts she hadn't paid attention to the first time around.

This was what she had missed, the simple joy of just being with someone when the silence was as comfortable as the laughter.

-tbc-


	26. Chapter 26

Stepping out of the lift, Judith scanned the bridge unobtrusively, but the only face she recognized was Data's. She knew Commander Riker should be on duty and wondered where he was.

Her question was answered when she entered the Ready Room after ringing the chime and being granted admittance. Riker appeared to be finishing a report of some sort, and he acknowledged her arrival with a quick smile.

No such look altered the somber lines of the captain's face.

"Thank you, Number One, and I don't want to be disturbed while the Counselor is here."

Judith broke in, "I think it would be a good idea for the commander to stay, sir. We're going to need his help."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes."

The single, blunt syllable knocked the breath from his lungs. Tugging down his tunic as he moved around his desk, Picard silently motioned for them to be seated. Riker swiveled one of the chairs around to straddle it while Judith took a place on the sofa. Picard, to the counselor's mild surprise, chose the opposite end of the sofa.

"Several things happened in today's session," she said without preamble, "and not many of them were very good. The gist of the matter is that we have discovered why Rosemary had such a prolonged aversion to Deanna, and why Beverly has been increasingly distraught around her over the last week. A detailed scan has revealed a previously undiscovered lesion in Beverly's brain, apparently caused by the Egelloc's mental manipulations. At this point, there is no way to reverse the damage."

"Wait a minute, you lost me," Riker interrupted. "How does Deanna fit into this?"

"Because Beverly can now actually feel even the slightest attempt to read her."

Picard's brow creased in a frown. "But Beverly has said that she was often aware of Deanna reading her."

"Yes, Beverly's own natural empathy is part of what made her an exceptional doctor and more open to Deanna's empathic abilities. But that was before the Egelloc went kicking through her brain with duranium toed boots." Both men winced, and Judith felt a flash of regret at the image created by her graphic choice of words. She might not have known Beverly very well before, but she had become genuinely fond of Rosemary and discovering that permanent brain damage had been inflicted made her furious.

She steeled herself to continue. "There is a difference between 'being aware' and 'feeling' it. Think of it as pressing on a bruise. The outer edges will register the pressure, but touching the center produces intense pain. The lesion has made Beverly hypersensitive to Deanna's empathic probings to the point of causing pain. She has also lost any previous ability she had to shut Deanna out."

"This... lesion... why wasn't it found before?" Riker asked. "If the Egelloc caused it, why didn't Rosemary feel anything?"

"It wasn't found because we didn't know there was anything to look for. And Rosemary did experience the same thing, only at a lower intensity. She frequently complained of headaches after her sessions." The counselor faltered, silently chastising herself because her own mistakes had furthered the problem. She added softly, "I never made the connection that she was more inclined to have them when Deanna was there."

Bracing his arms on the back of the chair, Riker leaned forward to ask, "Why is Beverly's reaction more severe than Rosemary's?"

Judith found it interesting that, once again, Picard was letting someone else do most of the questioning and wondered if he was concerned about not sounding properly neutral... or revealing too much.

"Because while Rosemary felt Deanna's probes, she didn't recognize the source of her discomfort and didn't fight it. In fact, I've been trying - rather unsuccessfully - to remember if Rosemary knew that Deanna is empathic."

Picard looked skeptical. "Isn't that rather unlikely? Deanna's abilities are common knowledge on this ship."

"But by being common knowledge, nobody ever discussed it. A great many details were left out because we kept forgetting, particularly in the beginning, that while Rosemary looked like Beverly, she didn't have the all the information Beverly has. I'm sure, Captain, that you remember her reaction upon discovering the identity of the person who helped her with the holodeck."

That tantrum, though brief, had been painful for everyone.

"I take it something happened in today's session," Picard prompted, mostly to get away from his own thoughts, "to make you order more in-depth testing."

"This has been a rough few weeks for Beverly, as you both know... far more so than Rosemary's first weeks because Beverly remembers nearly everything - her own life before, the Egellocs' torture and the months spent as Rosemary. Captain, the nightmares involving you and the Borg were harder to deal with because she was doing it as Beverly, without the marginal defense that being Rosemary provided."

She shifted in her seat, an action not lost on the two men. Judith McKenna was not one for squirming, and they took it as a bad sign that she was doing it now.

"Today's session was intense to begin with, but it was the first one Deanna had attended since Beverly regained her memory. When Deanna tried to read her, Beverly felt it and withdrew in an attempt to shield herself from what apparently felt quite similar to the Egellocs' actions. Meeting the unexpected resistance, Deanna worked harder to understand the emotions she was reading, which then made Beverly feel even more... violated." The word nearly choked Judith as she struggled to maintain her composure. "It became a vicious circle until Beverly ended up on the floor clutching her head, literally screaming for Deanna to get out of her mind. I called Sickbay for assistance, and Beverly had to be sedated. I wasn't sure we wouldn't have to do the same to Deanna."

Picard ran a hand over his smooth head, the only visible sign of his carefully controlled distress. "Is Beverly in Sickbay?"

Judith shook her head. "Not anymore. The sedative was mild, meant only to calm her down so that she could tolerate Sickbay long enough to have the scan performed. She's resting in her quarters, a bit groggy but fully responsive. Alyssa is with her."

"Deanna?" Riker, not caring about sounding neutral, didn't bother to try to hide his concern. He, too, could well imagine what this had done to the counselor. She and Beverly had been so close before, and Deanna had keenly felt the estrangement while Rosemary was there.

"In her cabin as well. Right now, they're both upset by what happened - and feeling guilty. That's the main reason I'm here." Judith mentally crossed her fingers because she had reached the touchy part. All she had to do was discuss the very personal relationships these two men shared respectively with these two women... and do it without specifically mentioning the nature of those relationships. "We already know how well Beverly responds to you, Captain, and I'm hoping the same will be true between Deanna and Will. They both need someone who isn't going to accept 'I'm fine' for an answer when it clearly isn't true."

Although he had gotten past much of the discomfort stemming from the sessions with Beverly, Picard still felt rather raw from the experience, and his survival instinct made him bristle at this new pressure. "Isn't that supposed to be your job, Counselor McKenna?"

Judith heard the implied reprimand and resented the hell out of it. He was her captain and had to be treated with respect, but her patient's needs were always her priority. She looked Picard straight in the eye as she replied evenly, "At the moment, sir, this isn't about counseling. They need friends who aren't going to let them withdraw and isolate themselves. They don't need someone making them feel that their every movement, their every word is being analyzed."

With a curt nod, Picard acknowledged her point... and the subtle yet well-deserved rebuke for his out of character condescension in the process. He could easily imagine how Beverly would respond if he spoke to her in such a manner. It also helped him understand why both she and Rosemary got along so well with Judith McKenna.

Judith watched the captain closely for the minute signs that he had accepted her stand. _'Always a strategic retreat, never a surrender,'_ she thought with admiration.

"I know how difficult these past weeks have been for both of you, but this time is critical for Beverly, and it might be beneficial for you to have a different aspect to deal with."

Satisfied that her point had been made, she deliberately softened her attitude as she turned to include Riker. "The relationships that you have with Beverly and that the Commander has with Deanna are much closer than mere crewmates or fellow officers. That will help enormously. You each know how far to push these women, know when it's okay to try a little more and when to stop." Judith smiled sympathetically at Will as she continued, "Given that Beverly has been in therapy for several weeks now, as well as the months she spent as Rosemary, I think Deanna is going to be the toughest to handle right now. As much as doctors don't like being patients in their own Sickbays, counselors really dislike being counseled. Her empathic abilities will tend to be an additional hindrance, because in a defensive state, she may misinterpret concern as being patronized."

"That won't be a new experience," Will said, knowing all too well the way their first encounter would go. "But thanks for the warning."

x~x

The chime rang twice, but she ignored it. She knew who it was - would have known even without her empathic abilities - and she didn't want to see him or anyone else right now.

"Deanna, I'm not leaving."

Betazoid curses tend to have an almost sing-song quality about them - which is why so few off-worlders use them. They just don't carry enough emotional force for most people. Most off-worlders, of course, don't have the ability to follow the curses with the appropriate thoughts either.

Then again, only one off-worlder was Imzadi to a certain half-human daughter of the Fifth House.

"I heard that, Deanna," Will said, still talking through the door, "and I can guess what you're thinking, but I'm not leaving."

She hurried into the bedroom, grabbed her hairbrush and went back into the living area before granting him admittance. It was an unimaginative attempt at camouflage, but hopefully it would look as though she had been involved in something other than crying.

Will took one look at her face and knew exactly what she had been doing. Without waiting for any further invitation, he sat next to her on the couch. She offered no resistance as he took the brush from her and tossed it on the table. "When you've done as many plays as Beverly and I have, you learn a lot about setting a scene."

Deanna didn't know how to take his casual attitude, and she shied away when he reached out to wipe away the dampness that glistened on her cheeks.

"If you don't want someone to know you've been crying, you really ought to dry your face. Of course, there's nothing you can do about the red eyes, so you have to hope your audience is grossly unobservant."

A fresh rush of tears filled her dark eyes. Will gathered her in his arms, and she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I didn't know that I was the one causing her pain. The more I tried to help her, the more pain I inflicted. I never meant to hurt her like that, Will, honestly."

"Sshh," he soothed, stroking her curly hair. "I know that, and so does she."

"You didn't hear her screaming. I've never seen anybody react that way... and to do it to Beverly... after everything she's been through. I'll never be able to tell her how sorry I am."

"Yes, you will, Deanna," he said, repeating precisely what she had said to him months before, "one day."

She pushed him away and gave him a teary glare. "It's not fair to use my own words against me."

He feigned innocence. "Against you?"

"You know perfectly well I said the very same thing to you when you wanted to tell Beverly you understood about Odan."

"Were they the right words at the time?"

"Yes."

"Are they the right words now?"

"Will, I -" She interrupted herself before he could do it. "All right, yes, they fit this situation, too."

Will pulled her back into his arms, dropping a tender kiss on her temple as she settled against his chest. "Then maybe in a few weeks we'll both be able to tell Beverly all the things we want her to know."

-tbc-


	27. Chapter 27

Answering Picard's ring, Alyssa told him in a low voice that Beverly was sleeping at the moment.

"Thank you, lieutenant. I know she appreciates everything you've done for her."

"I only wish it could have been more."

"I think you've both done more than enough."

They both turned at the sound of a voice from the bedroom doorway. Beverly tightened the sash of her robe as she slowly crossed to the sofa. "I don't need a baby-sitter, well-intentioned or otherwise. You should be in Sickbay, Alyssa, and I'm sure you're needed on the bridge, Captain."

Picard nodded at the young nurse who left only because she was certain that he would be staying. He waited until the door closed behind her before looking at Beverly.

"Captain, I -"

"My name is Jean-Luc," he cut in with a gentle smile, "and Starfleet has nothing to do with why I'm here."

Her chin came up defiantly even as she shoved her shaking hands into the pockets of her robe. "Jean-Luc -"

"That's better, but you can save your breath because I'm not leaving. I'm here as your friend."

Unable to bear the compassion she saw in his eyes, she fixed her gaze out the viewport. "I haven't been very nice to my friends lately. Not you... or Deanna. In fact, my recent actions have been pretty unforgivable."

"I'm not here to forgive you."

Now her sapphire eyes flew to meet his. "But I-"

"Did you do any of it on purpose?"

"Of course not."

"Then the only person who needs to forgive you... is you."

Hearing the echo of Judith's words from several weeks ago, Beverly's temper flared. "I must commend Judith on her training techniques," she sneered, "you worked that one in very smoothly!"

"Counselor McKenna's only instructions were to not let you get away with a pig-headed withdrawal," he replied calmly.

His bland refusal to return her anger left her floundering.

"I... I... Damn!" She turned away, raking a hand through her hair. She whirled back around when she heard his sharp inhale. "What?"

He smiled at her, the first easy smile between them in far too long. "It's just good to see you back. To see you all the way back."

"Didn't Rosemary swear?" She hated the comparisons as much as her alter ego had, but Beverly used them as her own form of punishment - finding ways that somehow cast Rosemary in a more flattering light.

He chuckled. "Oh, yes, she did do that, more frequently than you do, as a matter of fact, but she... she never... well, it may sound odd, but one of your most distinctive habits is the way you run your hand through your hair. Rosemary never did that. Sometimes she would twist a lock around her finger, but it wasn't the same."

She wasn't listening to him. Desolation darkened her eyes as she murmured hoarsely, "Jean-Luc, I don't think I can do it."

"Do what?" he asked cautiously. He couldn't tell what new tack her thoughts had taken, and he was unwilling to assume any unstated meanings.

"Survive this." She waved a hand vaguely as though to encompass the entire universe.

"You don't have to survive this. You only have to survive today. You can do that."

"But after today comes tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and the next. I can't do it!"

He took her shoulders, gently squeezing to make her look at him. "Now pay attention, Beverly, this is important. Each day comes one at a time. It starts with breakfast and ends with a wish to whoever might be listening that another day will come. Today you encountered a new problem, and with our help, you'll find a way around it. That's the best any of us can do."

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then pulled away, still uneasy with casual physical contact. Raking a hand through her hair, she looked up when he sighed softly. "Why do you find my hair so entrancing?" It was rather inane conversation, but it was better than talking about her current problem.

He ignored the obvious flip answer in favor of the truth. "Because it says so much about you. When you're upset, like now, you leave it all askew like the thousand directions your thoughts and emotions are taking."

She hastily reached up with both hands to smooth the errant locks. Curiosity got the better of her embarrassment, and she asked, "What else?"

He shuffled his feet, caught in an unforeseen dilemma. Revealing what he knew was admitting that he had been paying attention to such things. There was no way out of it now. He could only hope she would focus on the truth of his observations, not his personal interest.

"Well, a puzzle has you pulling it back and holding it, trying to keep it from obscuring things. Exhaustion means you never get all the way through it because your hand stops to hold up your head."

"I never realized my hair was so emotive."

"It's yours and red." He smiled teasingly as he resisted the urge to reach out and touch the curl that rested on her shoulder. "How could it be anything else?"

She took a playful swipe at him then abruptly sobered once again. "Jean-Luc, I hurt Deanna so badly. I didn't want to scream at her that way, but my head-"

"Stop," he cut in softly. "You're upset about hurting her, she's upset about hurting you, and neither of you meant to do it. Call it even, and find a way to deal with it."

"Call it even? Maybe. Deal with it? I haven't practiced medicine in nearly a year, but I understand what Selar found today. I'm damaged, Jean-Luc, and no amount of therapy is going to change that. I can't ask Deanna not to use the natural abilities she was born with, it wouldn't be fair."

The fact that she considered herself 'damaged' was clearly Judith McKenna's territory, but he might be able to help with something else.

"So you change."

"What?"

"As the old saying goes, 'Physician, heal thyself'. The diagnosis has been made... how do you treat it?"

She bristled at the blatant tactic of focusing on the intellectual rather than on the emotional. "It can't be treated," she snapped. "Selar went over everything. No surgery, no medication."

Picard was finally beginning to understand Judith's comment of a few weeks ago about Beverly being hell-bent on finding obstacles. He left her standing in the middle of the room as he made himself at home on the sofa. "Tsk, tsk. Your grandmother would disown you as a Howard for thinking that way. Did you check into any option more than twenty years old?"

She glared down at him, her hands on her hips. "What would you suggest, Dr. Picard? One of Nana's teas, or perhaps your Aunt Adele's hot milk?"

"I loved my Aunt Adele dearly," he replied, refusing to rise to the bait of her anger, "but hot milk with a dash of nutmeg is only good for helping you sleep."

Her hand was half way through her hair when she realized what she was doing and snatched it down. She didn't want to have this discussion, and she felt a hint of desperation as she sought a way to re-direct it. "This isn't fair," she said with a weak grin. "I know perfectly well that when the assignments were handed out, Will got Deanna. He's there letting her cry on his shoulder, but you're here picking on me."

Picard wasn't going to be deterred. A friend of nearly thirty years could do certain pushing that a counselor couldn't. "You want to cry? Go ahead, my shoulder is all yours, but you know as well as I do that it's only going to delay the inevitable. You have to deal with this - unless you're planning to avoid Deanna for the rest of your life."

What she wanted to avoid at the moment was his well-founded point. "I could try that." To his raised eyebrow she replied with a mock pout, "Well, you did say to consider all the options available."

"By all means then, let's consider it. How feasible is a solution that keeps you away from one of your closest friends forever?"

"Damn it, Jean-Luc," she shouted, her desperation set off her simmering anger once more. "This isn't some hypothetical Academy exercise, it's my life!"

"You do have a flair for the dramatic, Beverly, but you need to take a breath and calm down. We aren't discussing your life, we're working out a portion of it. Let's try it from a more positive slant. What's the best possible scenario for you to repair the rift between you and Deanna?"

"Don't patronize me, Jean-Luc. I'm not a child."

He winced at her sharp retort, knowing he deserved it. "I'm sorry, that dramatic comment was uncalled for." He held out a hand which she took long enough for him guide her between him and the coffee table to a place - not too close - beside him on the couch.

"I know how difficult it is to break this down into manageable pieces when the whole of it feels so insurmountable."

She nodded. "Every time I get past one thing, something else is waiting to pull me down again."

"Let's not worry about what may be coming next. We've got a tough one to handle right now. So, the question was, what do you have to do to be with Deanna again?"

"Build a duranium wall around me? It would make moving rather difficult, but..." Despondency overrode any humor in the statement.

"It also does nothing to keep out an empath, but it is half a good idea."

"Which half?" she asked doubtfully.

"Building the wall. You don't need one around the outside. You need one," he reached up and brushed her temple with his fingertips, "in here. We know you can do it because it seemed for awhile that Rosemary was going to be an impenetrable one."

The comment once again touched off the defensiveness that was growing more common. "I didn't become Rosemary by choice."

"I know that, and blocking out all of your other memories just to be with one person would be excessive." He saw the smile she tried to hide. "You don't need a wall, you need a shield or filter. Deanna uses mental shielding in large groups to keep from being overwhelmed-"

"And filters to focus on a single person," she finished eagerly. Her pleasure at finding a possible solution suddenly plummeted. "But how can Deanna teach me what to do? I'm not sure I can even be in the same room with her."

"I think Deanna's going to be busy with a few lessons of her own so that she won't hurt you. I wouldn't be surprised if she takes a few days off to visit her mother."

"Great, I'm so happy for her."

The sharp sarcasm stunned him. "What's wrong with that?"

"Jean-Luc, Deanna can build all the mental shields she wants, but it doesn't solve my problem. This isn't about her deliberately not coming in, it's about me keeping her and every other empath and telepath out."

"Agreed, but Deanna isn't the only person on board the Enterprise who can help you build the walls you need."

"Who?" It was obvious she was leery of having her hopes raised, only to see them dashed once more.

"If you're feeling up to it, why don't you get dressed, and we'll have dinner in Ten Forward."

"Jean-Luc -"

"Go on, we'll talk about it over dinner."

Beverly looked at him for a long moment then threw up her hands in resignation, knowing he wouldn't tell her anything until she gave in. "This had better be good, Jean-Luc," she cautioned just before the bedroom door slid closed.

Picard used the time to contact Riker. After inquiring about Troi, he advised the first officer of his plan to dine with Beverly in Ten Forward so that the two women wouldn't unexpectedly cross paths again.

That much was easy enough to arrange. If only the rest of the evening would go as well.

x~x

Beverly had never been to Guinan's quarters, a fact that didn't register until she was wiping damp palms on her skirt as she stood outside the El-Aurian woman's door.

Last night, Jean-Luc's idea had seemed logical and feasible, even more so when Guinan had readily agreed to assist her in creating the necessary mental shields.

So why was she standing here now shaking like a first year cadet who had been summoned to the Commandant's office?

She had almost talked herself into raising her hand in preparation of ringing the chime when the door slid open.

"Don't be late for my class again," Guinan chided gently as she motioned the other woman in.

With a meek "Yes, sir," Beverly entered and resigned herself to another - if different - round of therapy.

-tbc-


	28. Chapter 28

Seated together on the couch, Jean-Luc took advantage of the momentary silence to watch her. Not that he hadn't been 'watching' her for weeks.

He had seen her struggle through everything all over again as though none of Rosemary's efforts at understanding what had happened made any difference. Once more, she had to come to terms with the fiendish cause and the devastating effects of a most horrific experience.

Tonight, though, he had hoped she would be able - for a few hours at least - to put everything aside, but that proved to be a less than realistic expectation. She had been skittish and jittery from the moment she arrived, as if she felt uncomfortable in her own skin.

He shuddered slightly at the analogy he had unconsciously made. The feeling was one he knew all too well and didn't like to be reminded of. Silently he cursed the Egelloc for forcing that feeling on Beverly.

Pushing aside the distasteful thoughts, he focused on the woman at his side. She was a mere shadow of herself, having lost weight again as she relived her trauma. Her sapphire eyes - eyes that now rarely looked directly into anyone else's - were dull and lifeless which greatly disturbed him. Rosemary's eyes had carried a spark of fire from the very beginning as she fought to find out who she was.

Beverly seemed to have given up the struggle.

His hand covered hers, stilling the frenetic movement of her fingers picking unconsciously at the fabric of the sofa cushion. He added a new worry to the list when he felt the coldness of her skin. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Neither of them noticed the endearment as it slipped easily from his lips. He was too focused on her to hear his own words, and she was trying so hard not to think about what she was thinking.

This was their first dinner together, alone, in his quarters.

Just like old times.

Except that she was beginning to feel that nothing would ever be the same again.

"Penny," Jean-Luc tried again with an affectionate smile.

Her return smile was fleeting until he squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him, yet not quite out of her pensive musings.

"On Kes-Prytt, it was odd to have your thoughts in my head, but now I have someone else's memories in my head. And that's on top of the vile ones the Egelloc created. Sometimes..." She ran a hand through her hair as she faltered over the admission she had as yet made only to Judith, "sometimes I don't quite know which memories are actually mine. I don't know where Rosemary ends and I begin."

"Do you remember how many times we told you that you and Rosemary are parts of a whole, not separate people?"

"But I **feel** separate!" she wailed, "I don't feel like **me**!" Tears spilled over before she could stop them. She slipped her hand from his and pushed herself off the couch, certain she was about to humiliate herself -– again -– in front of him, but unable to control the flood of emotions. She stopped by the viewport, staring at the stars flowing past without really seeing them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I hate what they did to me, what they made me believe I did. I hate myself for not being strong enough to resist them, and I hate myself for falling apart all the time now."

Wordlessly, he moved to take her in his arms, holding her close, and she buried her face in his neck as sobs shuddered through her. They stood that way for several minutes until her crying began to lessen. He felt her tense and knew she was embarrassed by her outburst. When she tried to pull away, he held firm.

"Don't run away, Beverly," he murmured soothingly in her ear, calming hands rubbing her back, "not from what's happening to you and not from me. I do know how you feel. I felt the same way after what the Borg did to me."

She raised wide eyes to his as she began to see the similarities and knew he understood in a way that no one else possibly could.

Brushing away the tears still staining her cheeks he continued, "You have what should feel like hollow spaces in you, but they aren't hollow. They're filled with images of a person that looks and sounds like you but isn't you. They're filled with sensations that you can feel, but they aren't your feelings."

She nodded, grateful for having the internal anarchy put into words, then her face crumpled again as another realization came to her. "And I made you dredge up all those feelings again." Her eyes filled with yet another rush of tears, and she hung her head so that he wouldn't see. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," she whispered brokenly. "All I seem to do these days is hurt you."

He drew her back into the sheltering circle of his arms. "It's not your fault. Neither one of us did anything wrong. The wrong was done to us, by the Borg and by the Egelloc. But I want you to know something..." He tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. "My nightmares aren't nearly as fierce this time, and I know that I will survive them. I promise it will get easier for you, too."

"When?" she asked plaintively as she toyed with the collar of his shirt, completely unaware of what the simple action did to him.

Sighing ruefully, he replied, "Ah, ma coeur, I wish I could tell you. I wish I could take it all away for you, but..."

She drew back, shaking her head. "Please don't start giving me my own lectures. I know what it's going to take to get through all of this, but knowing it and doing it are two different things." She hugged him, wanting nothing more than to hide in his embrace, but knew that wasn't possible... for so many reasons. Giving him another quick squeeze, she slipped from his arms and smoothed her hair with a shaking hand. "Now, my friend, how about you let me have another small brandy and then escort me back to my quarters. I'm getting tired of sleeping on other people's sofas instead of in my own bed."

Accepting her subtle signal that she was through with the subject for the evening, he led her back to the couch, silently hoping that something he had said would help in the days to come. In his heart, however, he knew the ordeal she still faced could in no way be eased by words.

As he poured the brandy, he considered her last comment. Talk of sleeping in her own bed almost made him ask when she would return to her old quarters, but he did not want to upset her any more tonight. In the weeks since regaining her memory, she had been most adamant in refusing to discuss it with Judith.

'I don't feel like me' she had said. Was that part of it? Did she not feel enough like Beverly to go back to her cabin?

It was one of the differences in their experiences. His quarters had been a refuge from the stress of dealing with his assimilation, even when the nightmares tormented him. Beverly, on the other hand, seemed to feel that her cabin in some way perpetuated the situation.

Over a period of weeks, she had emptied her old cabin, but the things that reminded her of medicine were kept boxed and out of sight. Mostly, it was the rooms themselves she couldn't tolerate - as though they were haunted by the ghosts of midnight emergency calls and hours spent rehashing cases, trying to find out where she had gone wrong, why her actions had allowed someone to suffer or to die.

There was something about that Beverly, the one before the Egelloc tormented her mind and her soul, that this Beverly no longer wished to be.

He looked at her, sitting there cradling the brandy glass, staring into the amber depths, knowing the one thing she wanted most of all was peace.

What Jean-Luc didn't know was how to give it to her.

-tbc-


	29. Chapter 29

Beverly had taken up residence at one end of the bar in Ten Forward, lost in her own thoughts. She didn't notice that anyone who attempted to approach her was surreptitiously re-routed.

A brief tingle made Beverly stiffen. "Deanna's here."

Guinan, who had just set a fresh drink in front of her, merely nodded before moving away.

The sensation vanished quickly, but it was several minutes before Beverly completely relaxed. By that time, Guinan had returned yet again.

"I need your help."

Beverly couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked for her help - not as Rosemary and certainly not as herself. "My help?" she asked skeptically. "With what?"

"There's someone over in the corner who's a bit low and could use someone to talk to. The place is too busy for me to stop right now..."

"And you want me to quit moping as well, right? Okay, who is it?" Turning in her seat, Beverly followed Guinan's gaze across the room. Her breath caught when she realized they were talking about Deanna. "I thought she'd left."

"No, she's sitting over there letting a perfectly good double fudge sundae melt into goo."

"I can't..." She fought down the panic that tightened her chest.

"Why not? Don't you think it's about time you put those lessons to use? I don't want to think that I've been putting all that effort into teaching you mental shielding for nothing."

"But it's only been two weeks! I don't know if they'll hold -"

Guinan's large maroon hat bobbed emphatically as she interrupted, "They'll hold because you want them to. So does Deanna. Do you even realize what she's done? She's changed a major part of her natural inclinations so that she wouldn't inadvertently cause you pain. The markers she uses to keep her 'balance' - the captain, Riker, Worf - have been disrupted because your marker isn't there. She's changed so much that you weren't aware she was still here."

"I know all that -"

Guinan cut in again. "Good, now it's your turn to do something for her."

x~x

Deanna listlessly poked her spoon into the dish in front of her, stirring the former sundae that was now more the consistency of a thick cream soup.

Beverly watched, remembering the times when her friend would have known she was being watched. "I've never seen you waste chocolate before, real or replicated," she said, setting down her cup of lemon tea before staking the chair to the counselor's right.

Startled by the unexpected appearance, Deanna could only stammer, "Beverly... I..."

"I was sitting all alone and decided I needed a friend to talk to?"

"I'm..."

"I'm sorry I've been so awful to you, blaming you for something that wasn't your fault?"

Deanna couldn't help but respond to the teasing smile she had missed for so many months. "Do I get to finish a sentence?"

"Only if it's 'Hi, Beverly, I'm glad to see you,' and not any of that other stuff.

"Hello, Beverly." She reached out and covered her friend's hand where it lay on the table. "I am glad to see you."

"I've missed you, Deanna. I never meant to hurt you -"

It was the counselor's turn to interrupt. "I thought we weren't supposed to talk about 'that other stuff'."

"Right." As she relaxed back into her chair, Beverly became aware of the quiet that had settled over the room.

Everyone was watching them.

Leaning over, she whispered conspiratorially, "Brace yourself."

Deanna didn't need her empathic abilities to read the mischievous grin on the redhead's face.

Beverly looked over Deanna's shoulder to the table where Will sat with Geordi and Worf.

"BOO!"

Stunned silence followed the unexpected sound and then the room erupted into laughter.

Beverly turned her back on the room, a very Rosemary indication that she didn't want to be disturbed.

She and Deanna talked about anything and everything - everything except what had happened between them. Both women knew they would have to work it out some day, however, this night was simply about being friends again. There were some awkward moments as they learned new ways to deal with one another, but it filled empty spaces in both of them just to be together once more.

-tbc-


	30. Chapter 30

"Beverly to Picard."

The voice over the comm system was low, but he heard it.

"Picard here. Beverly, are you all right?"

"Yes. I had a dream - not a very bad one - but I couldn't go back to sleep." She grew hesitant, as she often did these days. She had told him one morning over breakfast that she was afraid of imposing on those whom she felt had already done so much for her. "I'm not bothering you, am I? The computer said you were awake."

He set aside the book he hadn't been able to concentrate on and slid down under the covers to get more comfortable. "Of course you're not. You know you can call any time." He turned on his side, realizing as he did so that he was facing in the direction of her cabin - or rather, the direction her cabin should have been. He wished once more that she weren't so far away. "Do you want to talk about your dream, or is there something else?"

Silence was the only reply, and after a long moment, he began to think she wasn't going to tell him what had upset her enough to warrant a late night call. He could hear, very faintly, the sound of her footsteps as she paced her room. Then Beverly finally spoke.

"Jean-Luc, I'm scared." The tremor in her voice was clear.

Alarm welled up in him, but he forced himself to be calm as he asked, "Scared of what? Your dream?"

"No, not my dream. I don't know if... if..."

Her lack of confidence disturbed him greatly, and he waited apprehensively for her to finish the sentence, hoping that he would be able to help her.

"I'm not sure I can ever be a doctor again. Every time I'm in Sickbay, I keep seeing all those horrible things..."

"Things you didn't do," he interjected.

"But I could have."

"Beverly..."

"No, Jean-Luc, you know what I mean. We've both seen our share of alternate time lines."

Hearing her pacing around her room, he could imagine the anxiety that was pushing her into motion. The habit of running a hand through her hair had returned with a vengeance, leaving her red locks in an almost constant state of disarray.

"Anybody can become anything," she was saying, "given the right circumstances. Even the simplest decisions can affect a life. This choice takes you in one direction; the next one takes you somewhere else. After Arveda III, I could have easily decided not to become a doctor, or simply have become so accustomed to pain and death that it no longer bothered me."

"Beverly, you know who you are and that you didn't, could never, do those things."

"It's not that easy. As far as my 'memories' are concerned, I did do those things. I see them, I feel them."

"And you know that will fade with time. You've told me that some things are getting easier." He had been enormously relieved to hear her eager account of her reunion with Deanna a week ago.

"Some things are, but this isn't. I was Rosemary for over ten months, and I've had my memory back for nearly six months now. Starfleet can only be so lenient in giving me time to recover, not to mention taking up space on the Enterprise while I do it."

"You don't take up that much space... although we are running out of cabins that you haven't lived in." He waited to hear her soft laugh before getting serious again. "Beverly, no one is expecting a miraculous cure. It will take whatever time it takes."

"What if this doesn't go away? If I'm not a doctor, I can't stay in Starfleet, which means I can't stay on the Enterprise and ..."

"I can settle that right now," he interrupted, disturbed by the panic he was beginning to hear. "You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here with us, and you will be a doctor again." She tried to cut in, but he continued quickly, changing to a more teasing tone. "Then again, if you don't practice medicine, you can... you can... well, I know you _must_ have other talents..." He was rewarded with a small chuckle. "You can establish your theater group full time... or... teach dance classes. You can do anything you want to do, but you'll stay here."

"I'm not a charity case, Jean-Luc," she countered, a touch of defensiveness lacing the smile he could hear, "and Starfleet doesn't just send civilians along for the ride on starships."

"No, they don't, but we have plenty of non-Starfleet family members on board."

"A category to which I do not belong," she pointed out.

"Well, that all depends on what you consider a 'family' to be. If Starfleet doesn't accept our version of an extended family, we'll do something else." He wracked his brain to come up with a plausible idea then his face split into a grin worthy of Will Riker. "I know - we could get Lwaxana to adopt you, then you and Deanna can be sisters. Or maybe the Rozhenkos... wouldn't you like to have Worf for a brother? That would be interesting, if only for the opportunity to hear Wesley call him 'Uncle Worf'."

Her laughter floated through the link once again and ended on a soft sigh. "Thank you, Jean-Luc."

Hearing the rustle of crisp linens, he know that she had settled back into bed. He relaxed a bit as he asked, "For what?"

"For putting up with me... for letting me call you in the middle of the night... for making me laugh." She sighed again. "For keeping me sane, both as Rosemary and as Beverly."

"You're my closest friend... how could I do any less than you've done for me on countless occasions?"

They talked on for awhile until Picard thought she sounded relaxed enough to go back to sleep. He was about to make the suggestion when she broached a new subject.

"Why did you kiss Rosemary that night?"

Jean-Luc answered slowly, still not quite used to Rosemary's out-of-the-blue questions coming from Beverly. "Technically, Rosemary kissed me."

"But you kissed her back - and you're stalling. Why?" There was a just a hint of accusation in her tone. "Who were you kissing? Me or Rosemary?"

He hesitated, not sure how to explain. He could hardly tell her he loved her and would always take advantage of any opportunity to kiss her. She didn't need to hear that right now. Telling her that he had somehow hoped his mere kiss would restore her memory could definitely be construed as arrogant.

"If you had asked me when it happened," he said finally, "I probably wouldn't have been able to tell you. The truth is, just a few moments before I had been startled to see _you_ sitting there."

"Oh... I don't understand."

"It's hard to put into words, but I had begun to think of you only as Rosemary and suddenly I turned around to see Beverly - your movements, your mannerisms, your... presence, I guess, for lack of a better term. I was upset with myself for letting you slip away. When she kissed me, I tried to... reach you... through that kiss. I realized my mistake then managed to compound it by upsetting Rosemary, making it sound as though your wishes were more important that hers... that she didn't have a right to her own feelings." That train of thought sent him in a new direction, and he asked the question it led to even as he thought it. "Why did Rosemary kiss me?"

It was softly spoken and quite unexpected, and it took a moment for him to realize the awkward position he had put Beverly in. Finally she said, "I'm tired, Jean-Luc."

"No, you're stalling," he joked, hoping he could get out of the quicksand he had just stepped into without too much damage, 'but I'll let you off this time. Get some sleep, and I'll see you at breakfast. Good ni-"

"Wait, Jean-Luc. You deserve an answer. Rosemary... cared about you... a lot. She kissed you because she wanted to - and because she knew she didn't have anything to lose."

_'Nothing except a piece of her heart when she was pushed aside in favor of someone else,'_ he thought to himself then cursed his selfishness. She certainly didn't need his personal twenty plus years of jealousy, envy and guilt over a dead man heaped on top of her problems. It would take another Kesprytt-type implant to make him admit that he had, even for a fraction of a second, ever considered the possibility of Rosemary's falling in love with him in hopes that it would carry over when Beverly re-emerged.

A soft sigh slipped out before she spoke again. "I envy Rosemary her courage."

"Courage?"

"The courage to quit worrying about what she might lose and concentrate instead on what she could gain. What do you suppose that feels like, Jean-Luc? I mean, doing something because it feels right, not because you've thought it through to the last tiny detail... and then end up not doing anything because you're afraid?"

_'What would it feel like?'_ The question tugged at his heart as well as his mind. _'What would it feel like to tell her I love her and not worry about what I might lose if she didn't return it? To say aloud that without her, I have so little anyway?'_

Obviously, he would never know, because he was doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing - thinking it through.

"I imagine it would be a very liberating feeling, Beverly," he said then added slowly, "and I believe I envy Rosemary her courage as much as you do."

Neither of them knew how to fill the silence that followed. It was an admission he never expected to make, and that she never expected to hear.

-tbc-


	31. Chapter 31

Weeks passed, and the reserved yet compassionate traits that people considered to be Beverly's began to blend with the freer, more easygoing ones they had discovered in Rosemary.

Occasional dreams still plagued her, and her sleep patterns continued to be so erratic that she never slept more than a few hours at a time.

Her old cabin remained unoccupied because she never again felt completely comfortable there. However, she did move once again - into quarters a few doors down from the captain.

x~x

The illumination in the small office was dimmed to an almost nocturnal level, broken only by the glow of a floor lamp that created a cocoon of light around the desk. Judith had the chair tilted back, her feet propped on an open drawer. Engrossed in the medical journal she was reading, Judith only dimly heard the door chime, answering the musical page with an absent, "Come" that was more of a reflex than an actual response.

It was nearly three minutes later before a movement on the edge of her peripheral vision caught her attention. Peering through the darkness, she saw a slender figure at the viewport.

"Computer -"

"Please, don't call up the lights," her visitor said quietly. "I rather like it this way."

The voice was Beverly's, and the request for darkness was a surprise. So was the fact that she was there. A glance at the desk chronometer told Judith that their appointment wasn't for another fifteen minutes. Whereas punctuality had been a hallmark of Rosemary's personality, Beverly was late for every appointment. To have her show up for a session this early was cause for mild concern.

"I'm pleased we've made such inroads on your... distaste for darkness, but -"

"Don't mind me," the redhead interrupted, half turning to look over her shoulder. "I know I've confused you by being early, but I figured if I started thinking here, then I might be ready to talk by the time my session rolled around."

"Think about what?"

Facing the window once more, she said firmly, "Finish what you're doing. I'm not going anywhere."

Judith didn't return to her reading, but she made a pretense of it to allow Beverly the time she needed, while keeping a surreptitious eye on her.

Beverly, still in her original position by the window, started slightly at the sound of the automated appointment reminder on Judith's console. Another surprise. Up until the last week, the need to be in motion had been as strong in her as it had been in Rosemary. Now, she didn't move when the counselor stepped up beside her.

Searching her patient's face in the pallid light, Judith thought she detected something new. Resignation? Defeat? Neither one was good. "What do you see?"

"Out there?" Beverly asked, eyes never leaving the stars. "Or in here?" Her hand brushed lightly across her chest.

"Both."

Now her eyes closed and her jaw tightened.

"Say it," Judith prompted. "It doesn't have to make sense; it only needs to be a place to start."

"With hundreds of stars, there's not enough light to read by, and yet I can see more light out there than I can find within me. After Jack died, I felt adrift, but I never felt alone. I had Wesley and Nana and my work..."

"And now?"

With a sigh of self-reproach she turned away from the window. "My grandmother is dead, my son has a life of his own, and I can't set foot in Sickbay or a lab without having an anxiety attack."

Once the words began to flow, she couldn't stop them.

"I have a few good friends, but they're all connected to Starfleet, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to stay in Starfleet. The brass isn't going to let this situation drag on indefinitely. I know that I'm running out of time, and I can't see any options." There was more than a touch of desperation in her words.

Judith led her to the couch and sat next to her. Now wasn't the time for professional distance. Today, Beverly needed a friend as much as she needed a counselor.

"What do you want?"

Beverly's brow creased in puzzlement as she ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not sure what you..."

"When I ask the question don't think about it, just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind. What do you want?"

"I want to stay on the Enterprise." She had no idea where the answer had come from, but she knew it was right.

"Why?"

The explanation was easier to understand. "Because I've never had any other place that felt like home the way the Enterprise does... something I didn't realize until the year I spent at Starfleet Medical."

"What do you need to do in order to stay on the Enterprise?"

"Resume my duties as chief medical officer." Her face scrunched in a grimace of distaste. "Given my inability to be in Sickbay for more than five minutes, much less practice medicine, that seems to be an unlikely event in the foreseeable future."

_'She's finding obstacles again,'_ Judith thought ruefully. Aloud she asked, "Is that the only way? You're a trained bridge officer, have you considered a career change?"

"Both Jean-Luc and Will have been through some intense physical and mental traumas and have returned to command. Getting them back into harness so to speak was an important part of their recovery. They had to prove they were in command of themselves more than anything else. That's obviously not going to work for me, and somehow, I don't see Starfleet granting me the leniency of a career change.

"Why not?"

"If I can't return to the career I've spent most of my life training for or practicing, how can they trust me to do something I've only done on a part time, irregular basis for a mere eight years?"

"Well you've effectively eliminated anything to do with Starfleet."

The observation almost got a genuine smile out of Beverly. "That's probably because Starfleet was always just a means to the end. I had to be a part of Starfleet to practice medicine and do the research that interested me. Now that both of those options are gone, Starfleet is superfluous."

"Is there another way for you to stay on the Enterprise?"

She started to say no... until she remembered a certain late night conversation. "Well, several weeks ago, Jean-Luc suggested that I ask Deanna's mother or Worf's parents to adopt me." Her all too brief smile faded into pensiveness. "He was joking, of course, but now it seems like that could be my only alternative to be allowed to stay on the Enterprise."

"Let's talk about being a doctor. You know that you didn't do any of the things the Egelloc manufactured. Why do you think Sickbay still bothers you?"

In the pause before answering, Judith saw her struggle against the urge to get up and pace. She knew Beverly saw it as a weakness rather than a release of tension.

"Thinking is the problem," Beverly said finally. "Sickbay is a place where long periods of inactivity are irregularly punctuated by brief flurries of minor concerns between even rarer occurrences of overwhelming chaos. The uneventful day-to-day activity gives me too much time to think."

"Think about what? The Egelloc?"

"More like everything else." Beverly laced her fingers tightly together in her lap to keep them still. "I've dealt with death all my life. I was seven when the disaster on Arveda III occurred, and I spent the next ten years helping Nana and just trying to survive. I went from there to the Academy and on to Medical. I spent my internship on Delos IV working on the plague that decimated two-thirds of the Delosian population. It doesn't seem to matter that my successes far outweigh my failures, suffering and death are all I see now."

"Do you have to be an active physician? What about research?"

"There's no way to look for a cure for a disease without knowing what that disease does to a body. Reading about it isn't necessarily easier than watching it." She tried to smile but didn't completely succeed. "I guess adoption is my only option. Do you think Worf would like a sister?"

"Possibly, but why didn't you ask about Deanna? Wouldn't she be a more logical choice?"

"Logic hasn't exactly been a motivating factor in many of my decisions over the last few months." The wry amusement in her voice slipped away as she continued, "I don't think I'm ready to face a full telepath yet. Deanna has had to change her entire way of dealing with me. You've never met Lwaxana Troi. It wouldn't be out of malice, but I doubt she would do the same." She laughed then added, "Besides, it would absolutely horrify Jean-Luc to have her related to any more of his crew."

Judith noted, despite the humor, the concern as to the Captain's feelings on the matter. She started to say something but saw that a change had come over her patient. Gone was the laughter, and in its place was a terrified look she hadn't seen in several weeks.

"I feel incredibly useless!" Beverly whispered desperately. "I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't have a purpose, a goal. As a little girl it was simply to stay alive. Then came med school, my career, my family." She was on her feet, moving once more, her fingers fidgeting with the satin belt of her burgundy tunic. "I don't have a... a focus for my life. I feel like everything I reach for is smooth metal, and I can't get a grip on any of it. On top of that, the possibility - no, the probability - of leaving the Enterprise frightens me in ways you can't even begin to imagine. I've been cast adrift once, thanks to the Egelloc. I don't think I could survive it a second time."

"Why not?"

"Because I wouldn't be here; I wouldn't be with..." She broke off, afraid of making an admission of dependence.

Judith knew this was a touchy subject for her patient so she finished the statement for her. "Because you wouldn't be with the Captain?"

Beverly turned sharply away, heading for the other end of the room. "I didn't say that."

"No, but Rosemary would have."

That brought her back just as fast. "You know something, counselor? I don't like being compared to Rosemary anymore than she liked being compared to me."

"I understand that," Judith replied, refusing to be intimidated, "but sometimes it helps. Whether you say it out loud or not, the Captain is a large factor in this matter. He was a tremendous help to Rosemary and to you. He's been your close friend for several years. Why are you pushing him away now?"

"Because it isn't appropriate."

"What isn't?"

"Any of it. I can't keep asking him to hold my hand every time I get scared."

"Is that the only time you turn to him? What about when you're happy or sad or just plain bored? Rosemary relied on him just as much. Why should it be different for you?"

"Because he was her friend and only her friend. She didn't have to think of him as her commanding officer as well." Beverly shook her head then intoned mockingly, "Starfleet protocol must be maintained."

"You've eliminated all the possibilities of staying in Starfleet. If you remain on the Enterprise, he won't be your commanding officer anymore. End of conflict."

"That's assuming I'll be allowed to stay."

"Since Starfleet has proven more than once that they have few feelings, just forget about them. This is about what you feel and what you need, not about regulations or chain of command." She paused for a moment trying to predict the response to her next statement. "This isn't even about what he feels or needs or wants. This is solely about you."

The sigh Beverly expelled expressed the tumult going on inside her better than any words.

"I want to feel safe," she said at last, "and I think I've worked myself into a corner where I can't do that without him. He once said that we could defeat anything together, but what if I'm not here? And if I stay here... I can't put that kind of burden on him, not as my captain or as my friend. I said before that I don't have a focus, and I'm trying desperately not to make him my focus. It wouldn't be fair to him... or me."

She was back at the window. Judith watched the reflection as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "You know what I want most? To go one whole damn day without crying."

-tbc-


	32. Chapter 32

"Are you going somewhere or just traveling?"

Beverly gave a startled squeak as she whirled in the direction of the open door. "Damn it, Deanna! It's not nice to sneak up on people like that!"

"Maybe so, but at least now you can do the same to me," came the teasing retort as the Betazoid woman entered and proceeded to make herself at home by ordering a cold drink from the replicator, then taking up residence in the armchair to the left of the sofa.

The scene had an eerie sense about it until she realized this was the first time she and Beverly had been alone in more than a year. Like their 'reunion' in Ten Forward, whatever time they had spent together since then had been with a group or in public places. Until this moment, Deanna hadn't considered the possibility that Beverly might have been avoiding her.

"Feels like déjà vu, doesn't it?" Beverly said, putting a name to the aura she, too, felt surrounding them.

"That's not fair," Deanna pouted playfully. "You can't sense me if I'm not allowed to sense you!"

"You never minded it when it worked the other way around," came the wry retort. "Besides, 'sensing' has nothing to do with it." She moved to the end of the couch near Deanna's chair. "Pull up your feet, please."

Deanna beamed at the request she hadn't heard for much too long.

When the request had been fulfilled, Beverly sat on the floor facing the couch and laying down on her back, lifted her legs to rest from knees to feet on the couch. In their new positions, the two women could still see each other to talk.

Although it felt unspeakably good to both of them to pick up the old habit after so long, there was still an underlying tension between them as they continued to adjust to their new relationship.

"Where was I? Oh, yes, I can usually read your face - when you aren't in counselor mode. So why were you sneaking around?"

"I wasn't sneaking. You made five laps around the sofa while I stood there in full view. What's got you tied up in such knots?"

"I'd prefer to be tied down." She saw her friend's raised eyebrow at the comment and giggled. "Rein in that imagination of yours! All I meant was that I want to feel... attached to something."

"You don't feel attached to us anymore? Not to any of us?"

"Over the last couple of days, I've found myself wondering just how attached I really was to all of you before this happened. I mean, how close could we have been if I managed to forget you all so easily?"

"So easily?" Deanna repeated incredulously, leaning over to stare down at the woman on the floor. "We weren't an appointment that slipped your mind, Beverly. You were suffering from amnesia brought on by nearly a month of intense psychological torture. There wasn't anything easy about it."

"Don't yell at me, Deanna," Beverly moaned, covering her face with her hands. "I feel bad enough about it as it is."

"Well, stop it. Feel angry and used and violated but don't ever feel guilty about what happened, or over our reactions to it."

Blue eyes peeked through slender fingers. "You're not being very counselor-like at the moment."

"I'm not your counselor anymore so I don't have to be. Since you don't seem to be listening to Judith, maybe you'll listen to a friend: you didn't do anything wrong."

"And maybe if enough people tell me that often enough over the next dozen years or so, I'll finally begin to believe it. You know what the real problem is? I want to be able to hate somebody for what happened to me, but there isn't anyone." Waving off the predictable objection, Beverly swung her legs down as she sat up to rest her back against the sofa. "I know I can hate the Egelloc, but they seem so intangible to me. Everything was dark and shadowy, so I don't have a clear picture of any of them to direct my anger towards. It's like trying to be angry at phantoms."

Deanna reached over and pulled away the hand that had crept up and begun twisting an auburn lock of hair around the index finger. "Don't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because that's what Rosemary used to do. I didn't like it then, and I heartily dislike seeing you do it."

Beverly ran her hand through her hair with a theatrical sweep and garnered an equally dramatic sigh of relief from her audience. "Thanks, Deanna."

"For what?

"For finally saying there was something someone didn't like about Rosemary. You know, Jean-Luc mentioned the hair thing, too, but he just said," she dropped into a perfect impression, "'it wasn't the same.' Why don't you like it?"

"Because it was the most annoying sign that you weren't here."

"Annoying... or painful?"

The brunette didn't answer, ducking her head to hide behind a curtain of curly hair.

"Deanna, do you feel guilty for not being able to sense that I was in trouble?"

That brought her head up. "You were how many light years away, Beverly? I couldn't possibly have sensed you from that distance."

"Guilt and logic are mutually exclusive, but that's beside the point. You just answered my question and counseled yourself. You are feeling guilty about something that you know perfectly well you had absolutely no control over."

"When you put it that way, I guess maybe I did... do... feel guilty. There isn't anything we haven't helped each other through, one way or another. And I mean all of us - you, me, Will, the Captain, Geordi, Data, Worf. We're a team and when one of our members is hurt, we try to figure out what could have been done differently... what difference we could have made."

"I'm glad none of you were there. I needed you here more than you can ever know. You all didn't just save my life, you saved my sanity."

The comm system sounded before Deanna could reply.

"Riker to Troi."

"Troi here."

"Are you coming to the poker game?"

"Oops, sorry, Will. I stopped by to see if Beverly wanted to play, and we got... sidetracked."

"Oh..." Riker sounded almost embarrassed for interrupting. "Uh, if you two are working on something -"

"No!" The women laughed at their unplanned chorus.

"I've 'worked' on enough for today, Will," Beverly said. "Save our seats. We'll be there in five minutes."

"It's always a pleasure to wait for such lovely ladies. Riker out."

Deanna stood and offered a hand to her friend still seated on the floor. They both snickered as the diminutive woman made a show of pulling the statuesque redhead to her feet. "Let's go win a few hands."

"No," Beverly contradicted with a wicked, conniving grin, "let's go win every hand."

It felt good to be leaving the shadows behind for a few hours.

x~x

"The word I've heard most in our last few sessions is 'focus'. Deanna mentioned a conversation she had with you a couple of days ago, when you said you didn't have a tangible target for your anger. I can create a holodeck program - with Data's help - in which you would be able to confront an Egelloc face to face."

"K'res'ta."

Unsure of what she had just heard, Judith said, "Excuse me?"

"K'res'ta. I think it was the name of one of them. Or maybe I only made it a name. Even though I didn't understand their language, every time I heard that word, the same one seemed to show up. I just began to associate the word with the creature, like a name."

The counselor shrugged off the inaccuracy. "Doesn't matter if it was a name or not, we can add that to the program. None of this is going to be exact. There's a good deal of information on the Egelloc in the Federation database, but we would use your impressions to modify the appearance of the re-creation so that it would be more in line with what you remember."

She looked up from the notes she was making when Beverly brushed by her chair and began to pace. Judith could see her agitation building with every step, each of which took her closer to the door. Anticipating a Rosemary-like escape, Judith said quickly, "You don't have to do this. It's only an idea."

Beverly's reply was unintelligible as her restless steps moved her in range of the door's sensor. She was out and gone before the door opened fully.

x~x

The next day, Judith received a message.

"Write the program." The counselor smiled at the "Please," that was an obvious afterthought.

-tbc-


	33. Chapter 33

A week later, the two women met outside the holodeck as scheduled.

"Interesting choice of outfit," Judith said.

"Not subtle, Counselor," Beverly snapped back nervously. She was sure that Judith could make a reasonably accurate guess at precisely how long it had taken to decide on the Mok'bara workout clothes.

What the counselor might also have predicted, but didn't, was the change in color. Blatantly intent on visual intimidation, Beverly had replaced Rosemary's sedate pastels with a particularly virulent shade of lime green. Her red hair was pulled back, fastened securely at the nape of her neck with a clip bearing the Klingon emblem of the House of Mogh.

"Let's get this over with."

Attitude would play a large part in this, and Judith wasn't going to let her continue to view it as an inconvenience to be tolerated.

"Beverly, if you have any reservations about this, we don't have to go any further. It is an option, not a requirement."

"You made me meet everyone else face to face."

"None of which included physical combat."

"Well, I do like to try different things." Beverly's voice shook, belying the bravado she was attempting to project.

"It's up to you. Do you want to do this now? Would you rather do it some other time? Forget it altogether?"

Shoulders squared, chin raised, Beverly all but commanded, "Run the program."

Wordlessly, Judith punched up the proper file and stood back as the holodeck doors opened.

Beverly hesitated in the archway. She felt the hair the back of her neck rise with apprehension as she peered into the dimness. She couldn't tell how big the room was. The shadows seemed almost like a living liquid, oozing closer, then receding away.

There was no discernable light source creating the circle of light around the figure standing motionless before her. All of her perceptions of distance and space were somehow distorted, making it impossible for her to gauge whether he was a meter away or a dozen.

A soft voice spoke from two steps behind her. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," she said, moving further into the room. "If I'm going to be running, I want it to be toward something rather than away."

The closing of the holodeck doors rang in her ears like the clanging of a cell door, and that, more than anything else, scared the hell out of her.

Her soft soled shoes silenced her steps as she moved forward, making sure to stay in the shadows. She felt Judith behind her, close but not crowding her.

There was a rasping sound in her ears, and it took a moment for her to realize it was her own breathing. It was a welcome distraction, if only a momentary one, as she concentrated on finding a calm center.

Stepping into the light, allowing herself to be seen for the first time, Beverly circled her opponent slowly, once, twice. It was about the same height and build as Will Riker, a frame of reference with which she was familiar.

Other than that...

She had never been formally introduced to a member of the Egelloc species, and she had only seen her captors in shadowy half light filtered through a haze of excruciating pain.

How much of what stood before her was based on fact and how much came from the memories she had described to Judith - which were themselves colored by her nightmares?

Did any of that matter? How accurate did this holodeck image have to be to make this work?

"Close enough for Federation work," she muttered, sick of constantly allowing herself to be sidetracked by inconsequential matters.

Suddenly she let out a blood curdling scream and launched herself at him. Just as quickly the Egelloc flung out an arm, deflecting her attack and landing a glancing blow across her face that knocked her down.

"Computer, freeze program!" Beverly ordered. After tenderly probing her lip where it had split from the force of the blow, she pulled her sleeve over the heel of her hand and wiped it across her face leaving a long, bloody smear on the green material.

_'Tribal markings of a warrior,'_ Judith thought, stepping out of the shadows. She wondered if it was Worf's influence or just instinct.

Beverly looked up and demanded, "Care to tell me what just happened here, Counselor?"

"The standard holodeck safeties are in force," came the matter-of-fact reply. "He can't kill you, but he will defend himself."

Accepting the offered hand up, Beverly dusted herself off. "And letting even one Egelloc smack me around is supposed to help me how?"

"Apparently there has been a miscommunication about our purpose here. Do you just want to beat someone up? Data and I could have saved ourselves a lot of programming time because Worf would have volunteered as a punching bag a long time ago. Any of them would have."

"So what is the point? I get to hurt the ones who hurt me?"

"No, not really." Judith allowed herself half a smile, glad that Beverly was finally asking the questions she should have asked a week ago. "As angry as you are with the Egelloc for what they did, you're more angry with yourself for what you didn't do. You don't believe you did everything possible to defend yourself. That's the purpose of this exercise. The incident with Ket proved Rosemary could do it. Now it's your turn." She gestured at the image before them. "Go ahead, knock him on his butt."

x~x

After almost two hours - and a heartbeat before Judith could do it - Beverly finally called a halt.

Wisps of hair that had escaped the clip were plastered to her face and neck by perspiration. The first bloody mark she had made on her sleeve had been quickly followed by others in random splatters over her arms, torso and legs, both front and back. Her only consolation was that for every drop of human blood on her clothes, there was an equal and corresponding one of Egelloc blood. It didn't matter to her that it was replicated, not real.

Limping slightly as they left the holodeck, she assured Judith that she could make it back to her quarters under her own power. In the turbolift, she leaned against the wall, eyes closed, taking advantage of the brief respite.

"Don't go to sleep on me," Judith teased gently. She didn't care if Beverly spotted it as a counselor's tactic to gauge her current emotional state.

"I'm not sleepy. My body's tired, but my brain won't shut down."

"You've got a lot to deal with."

Beverly half opened one eye. "You have a gift for understatement, Counselor." The lift's arrival at the requested deck forestalled any other comment. Lapsing into silence, they exited the lift and headed for Beverly's cabin.

The sound of voices drew their attention to the far end of the corridor. Anyone watching would have been hard pressed to say which one tensed more as they recognized Picard and Troi coming towards them.

Jean-Luc and Deanna, for their parts, managed to control their surprise and concern at the battered picture Beverly presented.

"Dare I ask what the two of you have been up to this time?" the captain asked warily.

"Holodeck therapy," Beverly said, resorting to the simplistic answer. It was too much effort to go into detail. Besides, they were both aware of the Egelloc program. It was a mere technicality that neither one of them had been told it was being put to use today.

"How did it... work out?"

"I think Judith would classify it as successful, but she's an incurable optimist. Speaking more pragmatically, and since I and my opponent both walked away, I would call it a draw."

"Should I be asking what those blotches on your clothes are, or would I be better off not knowing?" Deanna inquired, reluctantly seeking confirmation of her private speculation.

Beverly knew what she was fishing for and tried to sound blasé. "Oh, the dark ones are my blood. The light, orangy ones are Egelloc blood." She felt a delayed burst of adrenaline rush through her as she silently acknowledged the significance of the stains for the first time. "I didn't know the Egelloc had orange blood. That had to be a Data detail. He's very meticulous about things like that."

She knew she was babbling, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Some times that much detail can be annoying, but I found it very useful today. All of this is supposed to be a learning experience, although I doubt that Judith would want the one thing that stands out most in my mind to be that the Egelloc have orange blood."

They all recognized the rising agitation in the timbre of her voice, the fluttering of her hands and the paleness of her face.

Grabbing her by the elbow, Judith dragged her unresisting patient down the hall to Beverly's quarters. As the door opened, she looked back and said, "Aren't you two coming?"

Picard and Troi entered in time to see Judith push Beverly into a chair and make her put her head between her knees. "Who needs 24th century medicine when the old ways work so well?" the counselor asked conversationally as she perched on the arm of the chair.

Interpreting it as a variation of the other therapy sessions, Picard went wordlessly to the replicator and ordered the ritual glass of cold water.

Beverly was still head down with Judith patting her shoulder, leaving the other two with nothing to do but stand there waiting for something to happen.

"This is ridiculous," Beverly said at last, her voice muffled.

Judith helped the redhead sit up slowly before asking, "What's ridiculous?"

"After all these years as a doctor, now I'm getting sick at the sight of blood." She wrinkled her nose. "Not even blood, just blood stains."

"I think there's more to it," Judith noted lightly, "but you know I'll be happy to help you test your theory."

Beverly groaned, "I was afraid you were going to say that." She accepted the glass from Jean-Luc with a weak smile and drank deeply. "Thank you," she murmured then drank some more.

She looked up in time to catch a silent message flash between Picard and Judith. With a dramatic sigh, Beverly levered herself out of the chair, waving off assisting hands from both sides as she steadied her rubbery legs.

"Deanna, Jean-Luc is about to burst waiting to get a report from my counselor. Why don't you keep me company while I take a hot bath, and they can talk in private? I'll even let you call Dr. Selar to come patch me up."

"You're actually volunteering to be treated?" Deanna teased.

"I've got three people here who won't give me any peace until I do, and I don't feel like fighting any more today. Besides," she added, rubbing the hip that had stiffened while she sat, "there are a couple of places that really hurt."

The slow procession across the room was halted in the doorway to the bedroom as Beverly turned to give an admonishment she knew full well the recipient didn't need. "Don't let him push you around, Judith. Remember, I'm the one who decided not to tell him we were doing this today." Beverly linked her arm through Deanna's, leaning her red head towards her companion's dark one to imply confidentiality, but her words carried quite deliberately back to the others. "It really is sweet the way he worries."

The bedroom door had barely closed behind them before Picard turned to Judith. She was ready for him.

"Captain, the session went far better than she realizes. Today, she had a living, breathing target for her anger. It didn't matter that it was only a hologram. She used fists and feet - I even think she bit him a couple of times." Judith grinned, shaking her head in wonderment. "And her language! I've never heard such a verbal assault, both in intensity and colorfulness."

Picard startled the counselor by chuckling. "Beverly once told me that she had worked long and hard at learning not to say everything she thought. From the look on your face, I have been extremely lucky with the dressing downs I've received... although I wouldn't have said so at the time." Amusement fled as his hazel eyes darkened with a concern that went far beyond that of a captain for a member of his crew. "Judith, I know you would have taken her to Sickbay if she had been seriously injured, but -"

She cut in quickly, trying not to gape at the fact that he had used her given name for the first time. "Sir, she got a split lip, a bloody nose, some scrapes and maybe a couple of loose teeth, but there was not one single time that he knocked her down that she didn't get up. She accomplished more in this one session than we could have done in a month of office appointments."

"Do I really want to know what happened on that holodeck today?"

"Sure - just don't ever ask me to show you the recording of it."

He half smiled at her theatrical shudder... until he realized she wasn't pretending.

x~x

The program was used a dozen more times over the next three months. Unbeknownst to her patient, Judith controlled the level of difficulty on each occasion. On days when Beverly seemed reticent, Judith scaled it back. When Beverly showed up with fire in her eyes, she was given all she could take and then some.

x~x

The last was the fiercest battle of all - and the Egelloc did not get up.

Beverly didn't gloat over her success. She merely ordered the computer to end the program.

She then gave the additional command to delete it.

Judith accepted the decision without comment, pleased with her patient's assertiveness. It had been a long time in coming.

At the door of her quarters, Beverly declined Judith's offer to stay for awhile. She also decided against seeking medical treatment for the few minor wounds her opponent had managed to inflict. She had earned the marks of her victory, and she wanted to carry them for a day or two at least.

Securing the lock on her cabin door behind the departing counselor, Beverly went into the bedroom and locked that door, too.

Only then did she give in to the emotion she had felt welling up inside her from the moment they left the holodeck. She collapsed across the bed, letting the deep sobs wrack her slender body. For the first time, she cried not out of fear or pain or anger.

It was a deep, cleansing cry of relief and closure.

-tbc-


	34. Chapter 34

Jean-Luc stopped in the archway to check the program she was running.

He was mildly surprised to see that it was Labarre. The one time he had shared this particular program with Rosemary, things had nearly gotten out of hand. Remembering the feel of her body beneath his, he tugged sharply at the bottom of his casual shirt, trying to get his thoughts back on track. Her second experience had been no less memorable, albeit for quite different reasons.

Once all previous references about her had been deleted, Rosemary had used it frequently, delighting in the simple pleasure of getting to know people who didn't know her as someone else. She had always been eager to recount her exploits whenever she 'visited' there.

In marked contrast, Beverly never mentioned the fact that she had used it as a safe place to discuss her Borg dreams with Data.

_'So why did she choose it this time?'_

The doors slid open, and he was further surprised to see her sitting under the same tree where he had found Rosemary crying the first time he had shown her the program.

She hadn't heard him come in so he unashamedly took advantage of the opportunity to drink in the sight of her for a moment. Sunlight through the leaves dappled her skin and struck sparks off her copper hair. He could see the lack of tension across her shoulders.

Tension that had been there this morning.

She had canceled dinner the night before, promising to explain at breakfast. Her voice had been husky but whether it was from crying or from tears waiting to be shed he couldn't be certain.

He wasn't surprised. Judith had informed him of the holodeck session and Beverly's refusal to seek medical treatment afterwards.

When Beverly arrived promptly for breakfast, he chose to comment on that rather than her appearance. That didn't keep him from noting the small cut midway between her hairline and left eyebrow that peeked through her bangs. A faint bruise ran just above her jaw line on the right side as though a hand had gripped her chin a fraction too tightly. He tried not to think about the injuries he couldn't see.

She gave him the details of the holodeck session. There was no joy in the recitation, and she allowed only an infinitesimal emphasis on the words 'I deleted the program', giving an unmistakable finality to the event and the subject.

Gazing at her across the table, he had been pleased to see that her sapphire eyes were clear and bright. There were no shadowed remnants of dreams, no fear of things past or anticipated. The dark, haunted edge of the struggle to survive was gone as well.

For the first time in more than a year and a half, it was truly Beverly who sat before him.

Further conversation was sparse, neither one of them minding the silences.

As they were about to part company - he headed for his shift, she for a session with Judith - Beverly turned abruptly from the door, crossing the room in short hurried steps before he even knew she was moving.

Her arms slipped around his neck to hug him tightly. He returned the gesture, enjoying the brief moment of his arms around her slender waist.

She whispered something in his ear.

Wishful, fanciful thinking made it sound like 'I love you', but he resigned himself to the more likely truth that it was another 'thank you' for the simple favor of being her friend.

Her quick, Rosemary-style departure left him with nothing more than the scent of perfume lingering in the air.

The invitation to join her on the holodeck had arrived an hour before his shift ended. It was like the multitude of others that had passed between them over the years although it was rather vague on details.

What caught his attention most was the phrase 'civilian clothes'.

Tugging once more on the requested informal shirt, he called her name softly the way he had when he'd found Rosemary under the tree. This time, however, he was greeted with a radiant smile rather than tears of frustration.

_'She's made a trip to Sickbay,'_ he thought, noting the absence of the cut on her forehead and the bruise on her chin.

She was wearing crimson today, a tank style dress that, from the looks of it, came not to her knees when she was standing. The neckline scooped low in front and even lower in the back. She was sitting cross-legged, and he could see just enough to confirm that, as usual, she was barefoot and the nail polish matched.

Beverly held out a hand, which he took as he sat down facing her.

"I'm glad you came," she said, then added softly, "and thank you for not wearing your uniform." She had always liked the way the soft gray green of this particular shirt set off his hazel eyes.

"I thought the dress code was a requirement," he teased.

"No, just a request. It was as much for you as for me; you deserve to relax."

Jean-Luc thought she muttered under her breath something to the effect of 'deserve much more', but he couldn't be sure.

Her rich auburn hair was loose today, and he watched her brush back the strands that the wind blew across her eyes.

Looking out over the fields, her expression was almost wistful. "I owe you one more 'thank you' - for showing Rosemary this program."

"I'm glad she liked it - especially after that first disastrous time she tried it by herself."

Beverly returned his warm smile, recalling the fierce indignation and how nice it felt to set the anger aside and become friends again. "Yes, she felt safe here. You made that happen for her... and for me."

"It was a small return for favors owed. You've done the same for me in the past."

She looked at him for long moments, and he knew she was working over something in her head. He waited patiently watching the gentle breeze send rippling waves through the grass. His gaze drifted down to the vineyard, and he found himself missing his family. To his amazement, he realized he was making plans for a visit home rather than trying to find time to use the holodeck program. Perhaps he could persuade Beverly...

"May I ask you a question?"

The inquiry was Rosemary-like in its abrupt breaking of the companionable silence, yet more of the new Beverly for the cautious, afraid of imposing phrasing.

"You just did." He laughed when she pulled up a few blades of grass and threw them at him. An ineffectual 'weapon', they fluttered away on the breeze. "If you ask me a question, do I have to answer?"

"Yes, and truthfully, too."

"Well then, perhaps I should reconsider your request."

"No, you're too late." She sobered, all pretense draining away. "Do you love me, Jean-Luc?" Before he could even formulate a response, she squeezed his hand. "No, wait, that's the wrong question. Are you **in** love with me?"

He stared at her, bewildered and hopeful at the same time.

_'How does she expect me to answer that? Does she want to hear 'yes' because she loves me? Or does she want to hear 'no' because she doesn't love me and doesn't want to hurt me?' _

His head was spinning from the frantic questions his mind was conjuring up. Taking a deep breath, he scolded himself sternly, _'You're thinking too much. Have some of that courage you both envied in Rosemary and answer her.'_

"Yes, I am in love with you, Beverly. I've known for quite some time that I always will be."

A shiver coursed through her body making his heart sink. He pulled his hand from hers and, eyes closed, braced himself for her rejection.

He heard her scoot closer to him then felt her hands frame his face, and it was his turn to tremble when she whispered against his lips, "Well thank goodness for that... because I'm in love with you."

His startled gasp was lost as she kissed him. It was sheer instinct that sent his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

Their kiss was broken only by the need to breathe. Jean-Luc buried his face in her shoulder as Beverly rested her cheek on his head.

"By all the gods," he murmured hoarsely, "I may kill myself if this isn't real."

She smiled, understanding his need for reassurance. "I promise you, it's real. I'm real. Computer, freeze program."

Sounds from the village were silenced as the breeze that carried them ceased its movement...

...birds stopped chirping, bees stopped buzzing...

...and Beverly remained warm and alive within the circle of his arms as her heart beat a wonderful, slightly fast, rhythm beneath his cheek.

She hugged him as tightly as he held her then kissed her way down to his ear to say, "See? I'm very real. I love you, Jean-Luc."

He turned quickly to capture her lips again. His hands moved over her, discovering the silk of her hair, the satin of her skin. The need to learn her taste and texture, her curves and angles, was paramount to him. But he had to know something else as well.

"Why, Beverly?" he pleaded between kisses. "Why now?"

She drew back to look at him, her fingertips lightly caressing his face, memorizing each and every tiny line that she already knew so well. "Computer, resume program," she said absently. It was a long moment before she spoke again.

"Why? Because I've lost nearly a year and a half of my life thanks to the Egelloc, and for the last few days I've been thinking about the years that I wasted by being afraid and settling for safe instead of something deeper. I decided to take advantage of this opportunity to make changes - and I started with you. I love you, Jean-Luc."

It was exhilarating to be able to say the words aloud so she said them again. "I love you, and I couldn't go another day without telling you. I don't ever want to let a day pass without telling you." She took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "I tried to say it this morning at breakfast, but I was still afraid."

_'So she did say 'I love you','_ he thought exultantly. He curbed his elation to ask a question. "Afraid of what?"

"That you didn't love me. That I... oh, it doesn't matter. I was just afraid."

"I promise you, Beverly," he vowed softly, "that you will never again have reason to fear that I don't love you. I do love you, and I won't ever let a day pass without telling you."

Their kiss was a tender pledge... that quickly deepened into a promise of much more. Jean-Luc's strong arms cradled her as he laid her gently on her back. She went willingly, the shade-cooled grass a welcome contrast to her heated skin.

Feeling her shiver, he braced himself above her.

"Cold?"

He frowned when she shook her head.

"Fear?"

Now she smiled.

"Anticipation." Looking up at him brought another scene to mind. "Did you want to kiss Rosemary?

He didn't have to ask what she was talking about. "No."

"Liar." She smiled again when she said it. Her hands made slow, sensuous trails from his shoulders, across his chest, and back again.

"I'm not lying..." Her tactile explorations were making it difficult for him to concentrate. "I didn't want to kiss Rosemary that day, I wanted to kiss you."

"You're splitting hairs, Jean-Luc."

"Only if they're red ones." Resting his weight on one hand, he used the other to fan more of her silken tresses across the soft green grass. "It was you I wanted. You weren't Rosemary to me yet."

"Rosemary wanted you to kiss her," Beverly murmured, remembering the inexplicable pull her alter ego had fought against. "So much that it scared her. She barely knew you, and yet her feelings were incredibly strong. She couldn't understand how that was possible." Beverly reached up to trace his lower lip with her thumb, and her voice dropped huskily, "She didn't know how long I've loved you."

Slowly lowering himself, he said, "Someday you'll have to tell me how long that is." He didn't give her a chance to reply, and she forgot about trying to answer, arching up to meet him as more urgent matters took precedence.

-tbc-


	35. Chapter 35

Jean-Luc silently contemplated his surroundings and came to an inescapable conclusion. A large brass bed sheltered by a spreading oak tree - even if it was on a holodeck - was definitely a good place to be... _'As long as the woman you love is in your arms.'_

The bed had been Beverly's idea - one his passion-fogged brain had protested during the scant seconds that it took to have the request fulfilled. Now, however, he blissfully conceded the wisdom of the move.

Feeling Beverly sigh, he pulled her closer. "Out with it." The rumble of his voice beneath her ear made her jump.

"I thought you were asleep," she replied evasively.

"How could I be? That's the third time you've sighed in the last five minutes."

"Did you ever think they might be sighs of contentment?"

"No, I already know what those sound like. They start out as sighs and end up more like purrs... and all of this is avoiding the issue. What's bothering you?" He felt her tense slightly.

"There's something I have to tell you, Jean-Luc."

Stroking her arm where it lay across his chest, he said gently, "Sounds serious."

"It is. I've been wrestling with a decision for several weeks, and I finally made one." She hesitated then blurted out, "I'm resigning my commission and leaving Starfleet."

He had suspected that she might be leaning toward this sort of decision, but it was jarring to hear it out loud. Shifting to pull her closer, he kissed the top of her head and asked, "Where will you go?"

She craned her neck to look up at him, surprised by his lack of comment. "Well, as much as I loved Nana, Caldos was never really my home. I've heard a lot about a place in France that I think might be nice to..."

She broke off in a fit of laughter as he ran his fingers up her side, making her squirm against him. "Stop that! I said I was leaving Starfleet, not you. And if being the Captain's lover isn't enough of a 'family' tie to keep me here, I've started planning a very persuasive please-adopt-me speech for the Rozhenkos."

Her tone was a shade too light-hearted to be totally convincing, and Jean-Luc knew her well enough to know she felt the decision was the right one. What she was still uncertain about was him and his reaction. Picking up her hand, he pressed lingering kisses to her fingertips, palm and wrist before resting it against his cheek. "Is being the Captain's lover enough for you? What about medicine? Do you want to give up being a doctor? Can you give it up?"

Taking the bed sheet with her, she sat up, needing a small bit of distance between them - but she didn't let go of his hand. "I don't feel at ease in Sickbay. I didn't as Rosemary, and I haven't in the all months since my memory came back. I've tried as hard as I know how, and I just can't do it anymore..."

He reached out, gently placing two fingers over her lips to silence her. "I know you have," he soothed. "Beverly, you don't have to justify your decision to me. All I need to know is that it's the right one for you.

She pushed her hair back, off her face, in the defining gesture that he held so dear. "Medicine is supposed to be about healing. I know that pain, suffering and sometimes death is a part of that, but now death is all I see, pain is all I feel. There's no joy in medicine for me now. Maybe someday I can go back to it, but not now."

Jean-Luc searched her face, pleased to see that the sparkle was back in her eyes, though dimmed at the moment as she waited for his response. He sat up, and cupping her face, he said solemnly, "I want you to know only joy. You deserve it. We both do." His fingers slid into the wild tangle of her hair to pull her to him for a kiss.

They were content for several minutes just to hold each other, enjoying the fact that they could hold each other. Their lives were about to change - drastically and wonderfully - and they were looking forward to facing those changes together.

Beverly's growling stomach broke the tender mood, and he teased her about always being hungry. She countered by reminding him of their recent activity, which, although it assuaged one appetite, had awakened another.

Their history as old friends made the transition to being new lovers much smoother. Without leaving the bed, she had the computer produce silk robes - green for her, blue for him - while Jean-Luc ordered food. They didn't bother with plates or utensils, simply using their fingers to feed each other directly from the dishes of fruits and cheeses that filled the tray and sharing their glasses although both contained the same champagne laced orange juice. Their kisses between bites nearly upset the tray more than once.

Offering him the last strawberry, Beverly giggled as he bit into it then caught her wrist so that he could clean up the juice that ran down her fingers. She loved the feel of his mouth on her, but her eyes clouded as a question rose unbidden, threatening to spoil everything. Softly, hesitantly, she asked, "Are you disappointed in me, Jean-Luc? I mean, for giving up my career and leaving Starfleet?"

His hazel eyes never left her face, a loving gesture that began to ease her fear. "Will leaving Starfleet make you happy?"

Her slow nod told him that despite their newfound closeness, she was still unsure of him.

"Then that's what's important. I don't love you because you're a doctor, Beverly. I love the brilliant mind, the caring and compassion that make you a good doctor. Those qualities won't go away just because you stop practicing medicine. We can't be happy together when you're not happy with yourself. If leaving medicine is what it takes, I couldn't possibly be disappointed... not in you or your decision."

Barely giving the computer enough time to follow her directive to remove the tray, Beverly launched herself into his arms.

x~x

Hours later, they forced themselves to return to the real world. Their clothes were rumpled and grass stained, but neither of them cared.

Real world or fantasy, it was difficult for them to keep their hands to themselves, and it was only the Captain's great restraint that kept them from doing something that might be considered unseemly. He enjoyed Beverly's playful side, but he could see his carefully honed image quickly crumbling if they got caught behaving like a pair of teenagers in the turbolift.

Beverly dutifully followed his edict on behavior by taking a step to the side and a half step forward. That kept him out of her reach, but his own resolve evaporated in a heartbeat as he took in the new view before him.

Unable to resist, he reached out. "I must say, I do like this dress." His fingers trailed lightly along her spine, enjoying the smooth expanse of soft, bare flesh revealed by the garment's neckline, which dipped halfway down her back.

Feeling the turbolift slowing, she leaned back, and he reflexively brought his hand into full contact to support her. Looking coyly over her shoulder at him, she murmured, "Hmm... maybe next time, I'll wear it backwards."

Picard couldn't control the mental image her words created - or his reaction to it. "Merde."

Beverly giggled at the muffled curse, then laughed harder as he said it again when the lift door opened to reveal Will Riker on the other side.

Blushing almost to the shade of the dress that had gotten him into this predicament, Jean-Luc nodded brusquely at his first officer, took Beverly's hand, and tried to keep his stride casual as they exited the lift, heading for his quarters.

Will's grin widened as Beverly winked at him. He watched the couple walk away, supremely delighted that 'couple' was now an official - and public - connotation.

-tbc-


	36. Chapter 36

Picard, only half listening to the reports being given, marveled that he had been doing precisely the same thing this time yesterday, but today, his entire life was different. He had never suspected that after the usual meeting and an uneventful shift his life would be changed so drastically by a simple trip to the holodeck.

Here, in the observation lounge, he could almost believe he had dreamed it - that Beverly loved him, that they had made love, not only on the holodeck but in his quarters as well, long into the night.

Surprisingly, what made it all real was the continued snickering of his first officer. He knew that Will had instantly recognized the change between the captain and soon-to-be former CMO, but Picard was irked by the sly, non-verbal ribbing he was getting from the man to his left.

He looked around the table, seeing not the officers ranked among Starfleet's finest but the people there. The irritation he had felt a moment before vanished. He knew how much they all wanted Beverly to be happy... and as he recalled her kiss that still lingered on his lips, he hoped they wouldn't mind if that happiness included him.

Picard had known it was only a matter of time before the change in his relationship with Beverly hit the ship's grapevine, and it was bad enough to endure his first officer's ill-hidden smirks throughout the staff meeting, but Deanna's dreamy smile was too much.

He asked them both to stay after the meeting adjourned. "All right, Counselor, what exactly did Commander Riker tell you?"

Deanna looked at Will in confusion before replying, "He hasn't told me anything, sir."

"And yet both of you have been smiling like... like..."

"Like we're thoroughly delighted for you?" Riker supplied.

"I'm not sure what's going on..." Deanna said with a piercing, sidelong glance at the younger man who was trying to pretend innocence by smoothing his beard, "an uninformed state for which the Commander will pay later. I, on the other hand, was only reacting to the contentment that has been radiating off of you since you entered the room."

Picard turned with a look of mock amazement. "I'm amazed at your restraint, Number One."

"To be perfectly honest, so am I, but then again, it isn't my place to discuss my commanding officer's love life. My only duty is to be happy that he has one." He wisely concealed another grin as he saw Picard's ears turn red.

"And are you so sure I have one?"

"Well, sir, you blushing while Beverly giggled would usually indicate her joke at your expense, but you were holding hands in the corridor. A public display of affection is very unlike you." The visible smirk was back as he asked, "Are we going to get the details?"

"Will, stop," Deanna ordered. Only because she knew she would get them from Beverly later, she turned to the captain and said, "The details don't matter; your happiness - and Beverly's - is what's important."

"I said something very similar yesterday, though for a rather different reason."

Riker's face brightened. "Will Beverly be returning to work soon?" She had always been his favorite doctor, not just his friend.

"No, that's another recent change. This is unofficial at the moment, but Beverly is resigning her commission. She's also not going back to medicine in the foreseeable future."

"I don't understand," the counselor said in dismay, "I thought things were so much better for her now."

"It's all right, Deanna. This is a positive move for her. I'm on my way to submit her resignation to Admiral Nechayev and request permission for Beverly to stay on the Enterprise despite her non-Starfleet status."

"And if she can't stay?" Riker asked cautiously.

Picard hadn't seriously considered that scenario, but his reply to Riker's question was swift and sure. "Then we'll find some place that needs a former doctor and a former starship captain. Luckily, I know how to make wine and have a place to do it. That would leave us only with the problem of finding a way to keep Beverly out of trouble."

Neither Will nor Deanna had anticipated that kind of response, and it showed on their faces.

"All of this is premature," Picard assured his stricken officers. "I haven't even given the Admiral Beverly's resignation, and -."

"Does that mean I can't go talk to her about it?" Deanna asked, interrupting in frustration before she realized what she was doing.

"She's got a lengthy session scheduled with Counselor McKenna later this morning, but I'm willing - this once - to give up my lunch date with her," he raised a cautionary hand, "on the condition that you please don't discuss this in Ten Forward. Beverly is going to be mad enough at me for telling the two of you anything in the first place."

"Don't worry, I'll blame it on Will," Deanna promised, wrinkling her nose at the first officer. "She'll believe that!"

Will groaned at the prospect of Beverly's 'revenge'.

x~x

They were nearly through the session, and Judith couldn't stand it any longer. "I feel like I've been talking to the Cheshire cat for the last hour and a half. What are you grinning about?"

The grin in question widened. "I told Jean-Luc that I'm resigning my commission."

They had discussed the decision in several sessions, and Judith knew Beverly's only reservation was how Picard would handle it. "And his reaction?"

"He said he doesn't care if I'm an officer or a doctor, he just wants me to be happy."

Judith had suspected as much and was surprised that Beverly had managed to keep the news to herself for so long. "Good for you... and him. What now?"

"He's contacting Admiral Nechayev this morning to deliver my resignation and to talk to her about letting me stay on board. I think he's going to try 'the morale of the crew', or permanent liaison from Caldos, or some such thing - but that's only because his image won't let him use the title I came up with."

Judith missed the mischievous glint in her eye or she would have been more suspicious than curious. "And just what would that title be?"

"The Captain's Lover."

Judith carefully lowered the coffee cup that had been half way to her mouth. "Is that an official title or merely for shock value?" She amazed herself by speaking in a normal voice.

Beverly's voice, on the other hand, was full of innuendo and satisfaction. "As of yesterday afternoon... and evening... and last night, it's _very_ official." Clasping her hands together, she raised her arms over her head and stretched languidly as though unkinking overused muscles then grinned wickedly, "But the shock value does make it more fun!"

"Congratulations. This takes us back to my previous question - what now?"

"Well, I'm not moving in with him if that's what you mean." _'Not immediately,'_ she thought to herself. "Other than that, I'm just going to enjoy being happy for the first time in a very long time."

x~x

Deanna was waiting in Judith's outer office when she and Beverly emerged from their session.

"You're not Ensign Qu'af, and I know he's my next appointment."

Shutting off the padd she had been studying that contained her own appointment calendar, Deanna assured her, "I'm not here to change your schedule, I'm here to change Beverly's. The Captain has given me permission to take his place at lunch."

Hands on her hips, Beverly frowned in feigned disapproval. "Oh, did he now?"

"Yes, and he made it eminently clear that this was a one time occurrence. He knew I couldn't go all day without talking to you about..." Deanna trailed off as she realized what she had let slip.

"What did he tell you?"

"Just the bare bones. You're leaving Starfleet, and you're not going to be practicing medicine for awhile. He was vague about what's happened between the two of you, but he has been grinning like a schoolboy all morning long."

"Oh, and I suppose Will has been thoroughly enjoying that." Beverly clearly remembered the look on his face the day before.

"Will's primary concern is whether or not I plan to follow through on my threat to blame him for basically forcing the Captain to tell us what was going on before the two of you could do it together."

Judith couldn't resist asking, "Who is he more afraid of... you or Beverly?"

"Me," Beverly answered. "He knows I've got more free time to plot a suitable revenge."

Deanna seconded the opinion, adding, "And that your sense of humor is far more twisted than mine."

That comment earned one of the redhead's most wicked grins. "Let's see how paranoid our gallant First Officer is. Watching him wait could be more entertaining than actually doing something to him."

x~x

Eating had been a quick process due in equal parts to hunger and an urge to concentrate on conversation when they didn't have to worry about food getting cold.

Ensconced in opposite corners of the couch, Beverly had given Deanna as many details about her now very personal relationship with the Captain as she could without compromising Jean-Luc's privacy.

Deanna saw the barest hint of a frown begin to crease her friend's brow. "I know you're happy with the Captain, but is there something else bothering you?"

"You're getting good at reading me without your empathic abilities."

The diversionary tactic was a good try but unsuccessful. "Thank you, but that doesn't answer my question."

With her elbow resting on the back of the couch, Beverly propped her head in one hand while she traced the leaf and vine pattern of her skirt with the other one. "In my session today, I was teasing Judith about my new title being 'The Captain's Lover'."

"Okay..." Deanna said slowly. Although she had wanted her two friends together for years, it was going to take some adjusting to the fact that they had finally seen the light, and Beverly's openly irreverent attitude wasn't making it any easier.

"Well, for him to keep his title as Captain, he's going to have to show up on the Bridge once in awhile. Since I'm giving up my career that leaves me at loose ends. So tell me Deanna, what am I going to do with my life?

There was an intensity to the blue eyes now fixed on her that raised the counselor's instinct in Deanna. "How did Judith answer that question?"

"Even more evasively than you just did. I'm not looking for counseling right now, I'm looking for ideas. Jean-Luc once suggested that I could teach dance or enlarge my theater program, but I'm not sure that's enough to keep me busy."

"Those are excellent creative outlets, but you're probably right. What else would you like to do?"

"That's the point of this conversation," Beverly said with exaggerated patience, "I don't know what else to do."

Deanna shook her head in disbelief. "Beverly, you've got the widest array of interests of anyone I've ever met. Outside of medicine you have professional experience in Engineering, Command, Tactical and Ops. Ethno-botany is a _hobby_ for you. You're the one who got Vulcan, Klingon and Takaran scientists to come to the Enterprise to study a Ferengi's theory of metaphasic shielding."

"Which got Dr. Reyga killed," Beverly interrupted, "nearly caused an intergalactic incident and almost got me booted out of Starfleet."

"Not bad for a first effort in scientific diplomacy."

"That's not funny," Beverly pouted.

Deanna giggled. "Stick that lip out any farther, and you'll trip over it."

The other woman rolled her eyes. "You got that one, too?"

"I think every parent from every species with lips and the ability to pout has used it. Let's get back to the point. I know that you've been over all this with Judith, so I'm asking only for my own peace of mind - you're sure about giving up medicine?"

Beverly sighed, not so much at the prospect of going through everything again, but at a lingering disappointment in herself. She tried to shrug it off, knowing it was the only viable option at this time. "I told Jean-Luc yesterday that there's no joy in medicine for me anymore. Doctors can't distance themselves from the pain and death if they don't take joy in the successes. I can't do that right now."

"When did you decide to become a doctor?" Deanna's curiosity was genuine. The senior staff had come together aboard the Enterprise when each was firmly ensconced in their chosen field, their careers well documented. It never occurred to any of them to wonder how the others originally started their trek.

"In the womb." Beverly chuckled at her own hyperbole. "I'm almost serious. I don't remember it as a conscious decision. There was never anything for me but medicine."

Deanna marveled at the absolute conviction of her friend's reply. She hadn't chosen counseling until she reached university level, but once the decision had been made, she hadn't wavered. At this stage in her life, she couldn't imagine giving it up... which suddenly gave her a deeper understanding of the depths of Beverly's trauma that had pushed her to this point.

"Even while you were Rosemary I thought of you as 'Dr. Crusher'," she murmured softly. "It's going to be odd to think of you as simply 'Beverly'."

Hearing a short, sharp gasp, she looked up to see the last of the blood drain from Beverly's face.

"I hadn't ever thought of it that way." Beverly laughed harshly. "I spent so much time worrying about how Jean-Luc would react that I didn't think beyond telling him." Beads of sweat dotted her brow. "I'm not a doctor any more, Deanna. I've never been anything else, never thought of being anything else. I don't know anything else!"

Quickly moving closer, Deanna took her friend's hands tightly in her own. "Beverly!" she said sharply.

The blue eyes that looked up at her held the same terror as Rosemary's when she had awakened in the unfamiliar Sickbay.

"Beverly," the counselor's voice was softer now, "it's all right. You haven't stepped off the edge of the world, but even if you did, we're all here to catch you."

x~x

Deanna was leading Beverly through a calming, deep breathing exercise when she heard the door hiss open behind her and looked over her shoulder in time to catch the puzzled look on Picard's face.

Picard had indeed been caught unawares when the door opened automatically for him. He was trying to figure out when Beverly had time to program the sensor to recognize him when he suddenly realized he had walked into something much more important.

He took in Beverly's pale face and saw the lingering traces of panic in her eyes. "What happened?" he demanded tersely as Deanna moved to let him sit next to Beverly who all but fell into his arms.

"Reality finally overcame sexual euphoria," the Betazoid woman stated matter-of-factly.

Picard raised an eyebrow, more at her phrasing than her bluntness.

"She's coming to grips with the fact of her decision to leave medicine," Deanna elaborated. "Talking about what she would do from now on didn't bother her. She only panicked when I mentioned that she wasn't going to be doctor any more. The idea of redefining oneself can be a daunting one."

"Redefining?"

"It's always, 'I'm so-and-so' in relation to 'something else'. When we're growing up, it's family - she was Felisa's granddaughter, you were Robert's younger brother. Even now, Worf is 'Son of Mogh', and I'm a 'Daughter of the Fifth House'.

"In adulthood, it changes to career. She's been Doctor Beverly Crusher for more than half her life. We use ranks or titles more often than names - captain, counselor, commander, doctor. Given that Beverly has just decided to give up something that is part of her very essence, I think hyperventilation is a mild reaction."

"But why a reaction at all now?"

"As I said, reality set in." She could tell he still didn't understand. "Some decisions aren't real until we share them with someone else."

Chin set defensively, Beverly said, "Judith knew."

"The counselor/patient relationship is an entirely different thing. You discussed the decision, but did you talk about the consequences... other than how the Captain would react?"

"No." Beverly's reply was muffled as she buried her flaming face in Picard's shoulder. "Judith kept trying to get me to talk about what I would be doing," she twisted enough to peer up at him, "but I spent most of the time worrying about disappointing you."

He wisely refrained from pointing out that he should have been her last consideration, not her first.

Deanna thought a moment. "As I said before, you talked quite easily about what you might do in the future. You were even relatively calm when you listed the reasons for leaving medicine. I think you need to talk to Judith a little more about how leaving is going to change the way you think about yourself."

Disengaging herself from Jean-Luc's loose hold, Beverly flopped back against sofa cushions with a groan. "I like Judith, but I thought the therapy was almost over. Now I know she's going to insist on more sessions."

"Suggest, not insist," Deanna clarified. "You've gotten through so much already, an adjustment to your perspective should be easy."

"Deanna, I'm sorry I fell apart on you like that. You were trying to help and I -"

"Just make sure you tell Judith it was your fault," Deanna interrupted, reaching out to gently remove the lock of red hair wrapped around a slender finger, "or she won't let us play together anymore."

Laughing, Beverly ran a deliberate hand through her hair before saying, "Sorry about that, too," then laughed again at Jean-Luc's confusion. "Deanna's objection to Rosemary's hair twirling habit was a bit stronger than yours."

She frowned suddenly, belatedly registering the fact that he wasn't supposed to be there. "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong, I'm very glad you showed up, but I wasn't expecting you."

"I came to tell you that I heard from Admiral Nechayev."

Beverly clutched his hand tightly as an anchor against her sinking heart. "So soon? It can't be good news."

"On the contrary. She was rather enigmatic about it, but she claimed she understands quite well why you need to be here, and how much the crew needs you."

"She did?" Beverly and Deanna chorused in disbelief.

"Recent experience has taught me there are hidden sides to everyone so I didn't press for an explanation." He didn't add that he hadn't wanted to risk the Admiral changing her mind.

"Some of us," Beverly grinned wryly, "are hiding entire people."

Both Jean-Luc and Deanna were glad to witness the rare occurrence of Beverly joking about being Rosemary.

"Counselor, please tell Commander Riker that I won't be back to the Bridge today."

"Yes, sir." Deanna took the subtle hint and rose from her seat. "Anything else?"

Recalling the way his First Officer had smirked throughout the staff meeting, Picard replied, "No, I'll let you decide you whether or not you tell him about Admiral Nechayev's response."

"He doesn't know?" Deanna's dark eyes glowed in mischievous anticipation.

"An official announcement concerning Beverly's resignation will be made tomorrow - once she decides how she wants it handled. If you choose to make Will wait until then to find out that Admiral Nechayev has agreed to let her remain on the Enterprise, that's up to you."

Beverly nodded approvingly. "And Will thought the revenge was going to come from me."

x~x

Deanna spent the day in smug silence as Will pestered her for the details she obviously had. She was so intent on her 'revenge' that she never realized he was being a nuisance only for her benefit.

He knew perfectly well that it was good news because she would never have been able to keep quiet if the answer had been no.

x~x

When the announcement of Beverly's resignation was made, the crew was delighted to learn it didn't mean she was leaving. It went a long way in tempering their regret at losing her as a doctor.

The news spread quickly through Starfleet and beyond, and messages began flooding the subspace channels, causing Beverly to joke that she could have a new career just answering them.

A private gathering was held aboard the ship for the crew, but it was decided that an 'official' retirement party would be held on Bourque Station when the Enterprise docked for repairs in two weeks.

x~x

Admirals to ensigns, ambassadors and civilians, doctors, nurses and lab technicians - all came to honor the woman freely acknowledged as one of the best doctors in all of Starfleet. Over her protests, speeches were made extolling her virtues as a researcher, diagnostician, healer and humanitarian. There were toasts drunk, adventures recounted, and by evening's end, tears shed. It was declared a fitting end to a brilliant career and an apt beginning to a new life.

Tales of the gathering - nearly all of them true - would become part of Starfleet lore for years to come.

x~x

**Epilogue**

Over the next months, Beverly settled into her new life, including moving yet again - into the Captain's cabin. She followed through on Jean-Luc's suggestion, expanding her theater group so that she sometimes had as many as three plays in various stages of production at any given time. She also taught dance to anyone who cared to learn, but her undisguised favorites were the children who worked so hard and basked in the glow of praise from their adored teacher.

Teaching and directing didn't take up enough of her time, so she set about finding a more personal diversion.

Although she wanted something that she could share with Jean-Luc, archeology left her cold. He could putter around in all the musty, dusty places he wanted, but she preferred to look forward, not back. Eventually, she let an old interest lead her to a new one. Wine making had a loose connection to her previous botanical studies, and she liked the fact that good wine required aging. It gave her a sense of future.

At Beverly's request, Jean-Luc took her to France to see the real Labarre. It did not go unnoticed at the vineyard or in the village that the Picard brothers had one thing in common - a penchant for redheads.

Marie was delighted to finally meet the woman who had figured quite prominently in all of Jean-Luc's letters long before her recent problems. Robert, who could out gruff his brother any day, was equally enchanted as Beverly charmed him with her genuine eagerness to learn everything she could about the winery. As for young Rene, he was as love-struck as any teenager had ever been.

Without the restraints, both real and self-imposed, of being in Starfleet, Beverly flourished under the caring concern of a family she never had as a child and had never allowed herself to have as an adult.

It was the same way once they were back on the ship.

She learned once again to curb most of her off the cuff remarks and abrupt questions, but she was still most likely to be seen roaming the ship barefoot.

Even with her change to civilian status, she found a way to continue to use her medical skills on a limited basis. When large-scale emergencies occurred, she could manage triage, thereby freeing other personnel for more critical duties. She was able to do it because in a crisis, there was no time to think, only to act, to save lives. That she could do and was pleased to be able to help. She continued to experience mild panic attacks when she went to Sickbay for minor things such a physical, but the staff understood and got her in and out as quickly as possible.

Jean-Luc's love quelled the last of her nightmares, and she found a peace she hadn't thought possible.

Their wedding took place within a year.

They named their first daughter Rosemary.

The End

x~x

"We know what we are,  
but know not what we may be.

Hamlet  
William Shakespeare


End file.
